


I'll Be Home for Christmas (With My Fake Girlfriend)

by nakedrednailpolish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakedrednailpolish/pseuds/nakedrednailpolish
Summary: When her girlfriend dumps her the week before Christmas, Regina Mills needs a date to placate her mother’s insistent badgering. Emma Swan, who’s never really spent Christmas with an actual family, steps up to the plate. Throw in a very pregnant woman, her two children, and a Christmas Eve party? Emma and Regina experience a Christmas weekend they won’t soon forget.WARNING: The tropiest of tropes, clichést of clichés, this fic will make your teeth rot with the most saccharine of fluff. If you’re not a fan of cheese, then this fic is not for you. (But I hope you read it anyway!) Based heavily off of the movie A Holiday Engagement.Rated M for language and a few tasteless jokes.





	1. Friday, December 16, 2016

            She awakes to the blaring drone of her alarm clock.

            Groaning and rolling over, Regina taps the button that turns off the alarm and resets it for Monday. Realizing she’d be able to sleep in for the next two mornings gives her the energy to push back the covers and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She picks her phone up from the nightstand and sends a quick, “Good morning, love,” text to her girlfriend before scrolling through her to-do list.

            Today, she plans to meet Ursula for lunch, stop at the toy store after work to pick up Christmas gifts for Zelena’s kids, and, finally, meet Mal for a romantic dinner at The Rooftop, one of the nicest restaurants in the city.

Regina reaches for her nightstand again picks up the catalog she’d set there last night, and flips to the page with a purple post-it note stuck to it. Plastered across the page are numerous rings, embedded with beautiful, expensive diamonds. Regina smiles at the ring circled by a black Sharpie. They’ve been together for only eight months, but she’s absolutely sure that Mal’s the one for her. In four months, on their first anniversary, Regina’s going to propose to her. Her grin grows wider at the thought of sliding that diamond ring onto Mal’s long, slender ring finger.

            Her phone starts buzzing, and the caller ID shows not Mal, but the tight, poised smile of her mother. With a sigh, she sets the phone aside and climbs out of bed, not quite awake enough to deal with whatever her mom has conspired this time. Slipping her bare feet into a pair of black slippers, she pads into her apartment’s kitchen and turns on the coffeepot.

            When she returns to the bedroom, her phone shows a voicemail from her mother and a text from Mal that reads, “Good morning.”

            Regina types excitedly, “Are we still on for tonight?”

            She waits for Mal’s response, but when it doesn’t come immediately, Regina sets her phone aside and hops into the shower.

            After waking up her body and washing it clean, she reenters the bedroom, checks her phone, and grins. “Yes. 7pm @ the Rooftop.”

            She types out a quick, “Okay, love you!” before dressing, downing her first cup of coffee, and doing her makeup. She grumbles at the thought of listening to her mother’s message, but figures she’ll have to do it eventually. She brings the phone to her ear.

            “Regina, darling, how many times have I told you to pick up when I call you? I need to know if Mal has any food allergies before I plan Christmas dinner. I want to make sure everything’s perfect when she comes. I can’t believe you’re finally bringing someone _home_ with you! It’s about time we meet this girl you’ve been going on about. Anyways, call me. I love you.”

            Rolling her eyes at the message, Regina types out a quick email to Mother – otherwise she’ll get sucked into an hour-long conversation and be late for work – saying that Mal doesn’t have any food allergies, but she’s a vegetarian. Then, she finishes getting ready and leaves for work, unable to contain her excitement for tonight’s date.

*

            “Sorry I’m late,” Mal says as she hangs her pea coat on the back of her chair.

            “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Regina says, leaning across the table and aiming to peck Mal’s lips. Instead, Mal tilts her head and presents Regina with her cheek. Confused at the unexpected move, Regina hesitates before kissing her girlfriend’s cheek and sitting back down. “You’re here now.”

            Sighing, Mal bends to stow her purse on the floor by her feet. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the day I’ve had.”

            “Try me.”

            The women have pleasant conversation, Mal relaying everything that had gone wrong that day and Regina listening attentively, admiring her girlfriend’s passion for her work. The waiter interrupts them briefly to take their order, and Mal’s story finishes just as their salads arrive.

            “Anyways,” Mal says, fidgeting in her chair. Regina zeroes in on her movements, the second indicator that something’s wrong. Mal never fidgets. “That’s enough about me. How was your day?”

            Mal’s expression relaxes back to normal, and Regina brushes aside the nervous feeling in her gut to talk about her own day. She talks about her lunch with Ursula, recalls her trip to the store, and gushes over what she bought for Hunter and Kelly, all while Mal listens… semi-attentively. The woman’s eyes keep flickering around the room, taking in the other patrons, the plates in front of them, and the view of the city through the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

            When Regina notices Mal staring out the window, she follows her line of sight and appreciates the beautiful view for herself. The restaurant lies on the top floor of a tall skyscraper and looks out over Boston. The sky melts into an array of colors as the sun sets, and gradually, the lights of the buildings make the hulking structures glisten in the dark. Regina’s so busy admiring the view, in fact, that she barely misses Mal’s next statement.

            “I think we should break up.”

            Regina’s fork clatters to her plate, echoing across the quiet restaurant. Her jaw drops, and the unexpected bombshell shatters whatever Regina had planned to say next. Instead, speechless, she can only stutter out a shocked, “What?”

            Across the table, her beautiful, blonde girlfriend nods her head, as if reassuring herself that she’s doing the right thing. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

            Disbelief and panic rise inside of Regina. Mal _can’t_ be breaking up with her. They’re… they’ve been _happy_. She thinks again back to that catalog on her nightstand, the book opened to the beautiful, diamond ring she’d picked out.

            Things have been _perfect_. There’s _no explanation_ for the words currently coming from Mal’s mouth.

            Regina shakes her head, disbelief filling her as she asks, “Why would you say that?”

            Glancing down at her half-eaten plate, Mal gathers her words. Regina realizes the blonde’s silverware has been set neatly on the edge for several minutes, as if she’d been mentally preparing for this conversation. The pieces slowly click into place. The “love you” text that Mal never answered. The blonde’s late arrival to dinner tonight. The way Mal had tilted her head when Regina tried to kiss her hello. The way Mal, always so calculating and put-together, had fidgeted and listened distractedly during the first part of their dinner.

            Mal had been _planning_ for this all day.

            The blonde shifts in her seat, her next words sounding rehearsed and unsure all at once.

            “It’s just, I don’t think we’ve been clicking lately.”

            Regina blinks. “Clicking.”

            “Yes.” Mal nods, leaning forward. “You’ve been feeling it, too, haven’t you?”

            Regina shakes her head in disagreement, unsure as to what Mal’s referencing. In fact, she believed they’d been closer than ever.

            “No, no I haven’t.”

            Disbelief and frustration cross Mal’s features, and she offers her next statement like it should be an obvious explanation. “We haven’t slept with each other in three weeks.”

            Regina wrinkles her brow. “You mean you’re breaking up with me because we haven’t had sex?” The last part comes out a little too loud, a little too harsh, and draws a few annoyed glares from other patrons. Quieting her voice, Regina fires back, “And whose fault is that, Miss Oh-I-have-to-work-late-again?”

            “It’s mine,” Mal cedes. “And you’re right, it’s not just the sex.”

            Regina scrambles for another reason, some explanation for Mal’s claim that they’re just ‘not clicking.’ They’ve been clicking so well; Regina’s baffled to find out that Mal doesn’t agree.

            “Wait, is this about meeting my parents? They’re not that bad, I promise. And we don’t have to do it now. You can meet them another ti-”

            “No, it’s not that, it’s…”

            Another thought, a worse thought, enters her mind. It can’t be. Mal would never… “Fuck, are you cheating on me?”

            Mal’s eyes widen, and she rushes to reassure her. “No, no, of course not! I would never do that to you!”

            “Then what is it? Why do you suddenly want to ruin what we have here?”

            Mal gestures with her hands, frustrated and exasperated.

            “Because we don’t _have_ anything. You want this… this future… with… with _kids_ and a dog and a white picket fence and… I’m still focused on me. I’m only a resident right now, but I want to go even further – become a gynecologist – and to do that, I need to put all my focus on my studies and my work.”

            Regina knows this already. As a gynecologist-in-training, Mal’s biggest priority is her work. As Mal powered through medical school, a time when they’d only been friends, Regina often helped Mal review what she learned and study for exams. Even now, half of their time spent together is spent going over medical terminology or talking about interesting articles or studies Mal had read in recent medical journals. Regina muses that she probably knows almost as much about the medical field as her girlfriend due to how often they talk about it. She understands how important Mal’s work is to her, and what a big part of her life it is. She knew that going in, and she’s been nothing but supportive.

            “You can do that while we’re together. You know I’ll support you…”

            Mal shakes her head, as if solidifying her position. Her eyes close as she says, “I just don’t need any unnecessary distractions right now.”

            Regina freezes, completely floored as she digests Mal’s words. She can’t be _distracting_ Mal from her work, not when most of their time together consists of talking about it. How can Regina possibly be holding her back?

            “You’re saying I’m a distraction?”

            To her credit, Mal’s expression floods with guilt as she shrugs. “You’re not a… a _distraction_ , you’re incredibly important to me…”

            “Your choice of words.”

            “…it’s just… it’s just a lot. Too much for me to handle.”

            Regina sees how uncomfortable Mal is, knows how hard it must be for her hard-working, perfectionist girlfriend to admit that _anything_ is too much for her handle. The last thing she wants to do is add to the pressure Mal faces from everything else. She reaches across the table and takes her hand, squeezing it gently.

            “Then we’ll keep things as it is. Date for a while longer before we move any further. I don’t mind waiting.”

            Mal smiles grimly, allowing the contact for a moment before withdrawing her hand. She shakes her head, rises from the table, and gathers her things. “I don’t think you’re getting this.”

            Regina scrambles from her seat and frantically rushes after her. “What am I not getting? Please tell me, we can fix this.”

            Sliding her arms into her grey pea coat, Mal weaves through the tables toward the elevators. “There’s nothing to fix! We’re just… we’re too different.”

            “Different?”

            They reach the elevator, and Mal pushes the button to summon it. Regina watches, baffled, trying to stop this, trying to understand what’s happening, her world spiraling into a tornado and crashing all too suddenly. As they stand there, waiting for the doors to open, Mal turns to her and puts her hands on Regina’s arms.

            “You… you want a future. Together. And I…” The word _don’t_ comes too easily, and Mal’s trying to be delicate, trying not to hurt feelings here, but Regina knows that’s what Mal had intended to say. “I’m not looking that far ahead. To be honest, I might be holding you back, too.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean… I think I’m standing in the way of your happiness. I can’t be responsible for someone else’s happiness _and_ my own. I have to let myself come first right now.”

            Just then, the elevator dings, and Mal steps inside.

            “I’m sorry, Regina, I really am.”

            Too shocked and hurt to move, Regina watches the shining metal doors close on the woman who was going to be her fiancée. The worst part is that she can’t even blame Mal for her last statement. She knows all too well how damaging it can be to let someone put all their hope solely on her.

            Quickly, she gathers herself and moves to press the elevator button – all she needs to do is get to her car before she can break down in safety – but a waiter stands in her path.

            “We’re going to need you to pay the bill first.”

            Regina looks back at their table, half-eaten plates still waiting to be consumed. They hadn’t even finished their meal before everything hit the fan.

            And Mal had left her to pay for the bill.

            “Yes, of course.”

*

            “I can’t believe she broke up with me!” Regina sobs, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey. Usually she’s a wine drinker, but tonight, she _definitely_ needs something stronger.

            “Hey, save some for me,” Ursula chides, holding her hand out for the bottle. Reluctantly, Regina passes it over so Ursula can have a shot.

            “I mean, I was going to _propose_ to her.”

            “I know, honey.”

            “Things were going so well. I thought…” she takes a wobbly breath. “I thought she was The One, you know?”

            “I know,” Ursula echoes, patting one of Regina’s shins. She sits at one end of the black leather couch, while Regina’s stretched out across it, her legs finding home in Ursula’s lap.

            Regina’s phone starts to buzz, and she scrambles to snatch it from the coffee table, hoping it’s Mal calling to change her mind. They could still be together. Maybe Mal had realized breaking up had been a mistake and was going to apologize. Everything will be fine.

            Unfortunately, it’s her mother’s picture flashing on the caller ID, and even though Cora’s going to have a cow at being sent to voicemail twice in one day, Regina knows she won’t be able to deal with her, not right now, possibly not _ever_ after tonight.

            Tears welling up in her eyes again at how quickly she’d fallen into false hope, Regina slides her thumb across the screen to ignore the call and tosses her phone on the floor.

A new thought occurs to her then, and she gestures helplessly at her phone. “What am I going to tell Mother?”

            Ursula shrugs. “Don’t tell her anything.”

            “But she’s expecting Mal to come over for Christmas!”

            “Okay, so just tell her she’s not coming anymore. Say she got called in to work or something.”

            The solution seems so simple to Ursula, someone who doesn’t have to deal with the shit-storm that is Cora Mills. Someone who doesn’t understand quite how desperately the woman needs to meet an actual human in Regina’s life. Regina knows otherwise, and tries to explain.

            “I _can’t_. I already told her that we’d cleared our schedules. Do you know how long my mother has waited for me to bring home a partner? She’s not going to believe that Mal was ever real in the first place!”

            “It’s not that bad,” Ursula soothes, patting Regina’s legs again.

            “Yes it _is_! You try spending the holidays listening to your mother say, ‘you’re a lesbian, not a spinster, dear,’ five times a night.” She takes the bottle back from Ursula and downs another shot, bristling as the fiery liquid rushes down her throat. “What am I gonna do?”

            Ursula rubs Regina’s shin in thought, Regina’s sobs intermitting the quiet as they think. Maybe she could just _not go_ to Christmas. Except her sister would give her hell for missing a holiday with her niece and nephew. Thinking about their young faces, knowing how infrequently she sees them already, Regina assents that she can’t let them down.

            She’ll have to go. Dateless, girlfriend-less, fiancée-less. And to make it even more humiliating, she had made a big deal about Mal, telling her mother about how dedicated she was to her job and schooling (and her workaholic parent had been pleased with the information) and how smart she was and how gentle she was and how _absolutely perfect_ she was. She’d been so excited to show her mother that she wasn’t a complete failure. That she _could_ find a woman if she wanted to. It’d be a complete embarrassment for her to show up empty-armed.

            Ursula smiles at her, a glint in her eyes that tells Regina that she’s concocted a plan.

            “What?” Regina prompts.

            “Don’t tell her.”

            “Didn’t you hear me? I just told you, I _can’t_. If I show up without Mal, my mother…”

            “So don’t show up without Mal.”

            Not quite catching on, Regina sits up as if it would help her convey her problem further.

            “ _She broke up with me,_ Ursula. I don’t think she’ll want to spend Christmas with me, let alone the rest of my family.”

            “But it won’t really be Mal.”

            Regina narrows her eyes in confusion. “What?”

            “Just bring home another girl and pretend she’s Mal. Then, after the holidays, tell your family you broke up.”

            “Right, okay. Where am I going to find a new girlfriend in a week?”

            Ursula moves Regina’s legs to the coffee table and stands to retrieve her laptop. “Put out an ad.”

            “Put out an ad for a girlfriend? Yeah, that doesn’t sound desperate.”

            “No!” Ursula says, plopping back down on the couch. “Put out an ad for a _fake_ girlfriend.”

            Regina sits up fully, scooting closer to her friend so she can see the laptop screen. Ursula has already opened several tabs. “You mean ask someone to _pretend_ to be Mal?” Regina searches Ursula’s face for a hint of a smile, a glimmer in her eye, something that indicates this is all a joke. “You’re ridiculous.”

            That elicits a smirk, though Ursula keeps typing away.

            “You’re _completely out of your mind_. This isn’t a Hallmark rom-com. It’s my _life_.”

            Ursula chuckles. “No one said you have to fall in love with anyone. You just need a date for Christmas weekend.”

            Regina shakes her head, wondering if the whiskey had gone to her friend’s head.

            “Who’s gonna want to do that?”

            “I dunno. Wannabe actresses, girls looking for some extra cash…”

            “What?”

            “Well you have to _pay_ them. They’re not gonna do it for free.”

            “With what money? I’m just getting on my feet in the business. I don’t exactly have wads of cash sitting around the apartment, do I?”

            Ursula shrugs, as if it were obvious. “Use the money you’ve been saving for her engagement ring.”

            Regina gapes, watching dark, nimble fingers fly across the keyboard. “ _No_. No _way_. I’m not using that money to pay some _stranger_ to pretend to date me. What if… what if Mal comes back? What if she realizes that we _are_ meant for each other? I’ll have no money for a ring and my family will be confused over who I actually brought for Christmas.”

            This time, Ursula stops typing and turns to look her friend in the eye, suddenly much more serious than before. “She _broke your heart._ She called you an unnecessary distraction. Would you even want her if she did?”

            Regina shrugs and lets out a breath. Honestly? She doesn’t know. Before Mal had up and left, Regina was sure she’d marry the woman. She’d been certain that the two of them would live happily ever after, like the fairytales her father read her when she was a kid. Now, though? Well, Mal clearly thinks they have no future. And her words, though trying to be gentle, stung. _Unnecessary distraction_. Like their relationship had just been a hobby, a way to pass the time between Mal’s shifts that’s now taking too much effort to maintain. Like she’s not important enough to keep around. That _hurts_ , and it’s not like if Mal came back they could go right back to the way they were before.

            “What if I want to save that money for the right person?” she asks instead.

            Ursula offers a weak smile, understanding where Regina’s coming from, before turning back to her computer.

            “Well you need to compensate your fake girlfriend somehow.”

            Regina sighs. This plan is irrational. There are a million ways this could go wrong. She could invite a robber or a murderer into her parents’ house, and she wouldn’t know the difference. Her family could find out the truth somehow. The woman she hires could decide halfway through to drop out. But at the very least, it will keep her mother’s comments about her incompetency at bay.

            “What if they’re a serial killer?”

            “Well, we’ll do a background check first.”

            “You mean Facebook stalk them.”

            “And Google them.”

            Ursula seems so sure that this will work. Part of that must have rubbed off on Regina – or the whiskey’s now affecting her as well – because she finds herself giving in.

            “Fine. But if this blows up in my face, I’m blaming you.”

            “Of course,” Ursula says with a grin. “Now, what do we want this ad to say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I've been working super hard on this fic (since /last/ Christmas, lol) and am excited to share it with you! I'm planning to update a chapter a day until the whole story's posted. Stay tuned for more Swan Queen shenanigans!


	2. December 21-23

Wednesday, December 21, 2016 - Morning

            Emma rolls over and taps her phone, turning off her alarm – which she’d already snoozed, like, five times.

            When she realizes what time it is, she jumps out of bed, wondering if she’ll have time for her morning workout before her Starbucks shift. She knows if she doesn’t work out now, she’ll only be half-awake for her shift – even _after_ she downs five espressos – so, in a frenzy, she pulls on a sports bra, yoga pants, and sneakers before hurrying out of her apartment for a jog.

            After a quick run, Emma returns to her apartment to do some sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, and squats followed by a cold, hurried shower.

            She checks her phone for the first time that morning while hopping on one foot in an attempt to pull on her work pants. There aren’t any calls from Lily, but she does find a text from Neal that reads, “Dinner tonight?” She replies with a quick, “ok,” excited for another round of Chinese food and Netflix with her best friend. Slipping on a black shirt, yanking her damp hair into a bun, and topping the look with her Starbucks visor, Emma barely remembers to grab her keys before bursting out the door.

            Clocking in just in time, Emma stows her things in the back room and joins Ruby in the front to help with the morning coffee rush.

            “Sleep in again today?” Ruby asks as she mixes a drink.

            “How’d you know?”

            “When you wake up on time, your hair’s dry. When you sleep in, it’s still wet.”

            “Oh,” Emma replies, shocked at the attention her friend paid to her hair.

            The morning drags by, and after the before-work rush, only a few customers and the Christmas music playing over the radio permeate the quiet.

            “Any plans tonight?” Ruby asks as she wipes down one of the machines.

            Emma pulls out a sheath of cups and restocks one of the cup dispensers. “Neal and I are getting Chinese. Wanna come?”

            “Sure, sounds great,” Ruby says, moving to the next machine.

            The door opens, and two women approach the counter. At the sight of the first woman, a short brunette sporting an unfriendly scowl, Emma shoots Ruby an annoyed, knowing look and moves up to the registers to take their order.

            “Hi, how are y-”

            The woman, an unpleasant regular who only speaks in a clipped, harsh tone, starts right into her order. “Grande iced caramel macchiato, soy, no whip.”

            Emma fights the urge to roll her eyes at the woman’s curtness and rings up her usual order. “Okay, anything else?”

            “That’s it.”

            She punches in the woman’s name – Regina – and rattles off the total as the brunette swipes a silver credit card through the machine. Emma passes her a receipt to sign and a receipt to keep. While the brunette signs the slip, Emma grabs a cup, marks it with a Sharpie, and passes it to Ruby to make.

            Emma receives the signed paper and rattles off a quick, “Thank you,” before turning to the second woman.

            She assumes that this customer, though unfamiliar, must be a friend of Regina’s. Luckily, she seems warmer, a kind look in her coffee eyes and a soft smile on her lips. They have a polite exchange in which the woman – whose name Emma discovers is Ursula – uses pleasantries that Regina had forgone. Emma gives the total and the woman pays quickly, offering a kind, “Have a nice day,” as she moves to wait with her friend.

            “Can I spit in the little one’s drink?” Ruby whispers in a low voice.

            Emma sighs and grabs a cup for the second order. “No, don’t.”

            Ruby grumbles, but refrains from toying with either drink. They present the coffee and watch the women take a seat at one of the high tables along the far wall.

            Once they’re out of earshot, Ruby whispers, “How hard is it to say, ‘Good, how are you?’ I swear…”

*

            An hour and a half later, Regina’s having no luck.

            On the table in front of them sits Ursula’s laptop, open to the latest response to Regina’s ad. The woman, sporting too much make-up and wearing what looks like a real fur coat, doesn’t look like she could use the money and talks the entire time about her clothes and how hot Regina looked in the video she’d posted with the ad.

            “This is completely hopeless,” Regina grumbles, leaning back in her chair. Over the past few days, they’d gotten a ton of applicants, though none that were actually qualified to fill the position. Many straight women applied, which would have been fine had they not assured Regina that they were “okay with the gay thing, but would not share a bed” (whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean) or proposed some other caveat. Some women seemed to think that Regina was soliciting _sex_ as opposed to a fake girlfriend and sent in videos of themselves in lingerie. And finally, half of the responses were men, who misunderstood the entire purpose of the ad and instead tried to hit on her by telling her they weren’t opposed to a threesome. Regina almost barfed at the third video, wondering why they’d watched any of the men’s videos in the first place.

            Regina glances at Ursula, who’s currently replaying fur-woman’s video while her eyes slowly dilate.

            “If you don’t want her, can I have her?” Ursula asks.

            Groaning, Regina puts her elbows on the table and buries her face in her hands. “At this rate, I’m never going to find a fake girlfriend.”

            A chuckling voice asks, “Fake girlfriend? What do you need a _fake_ girlfriend for?”

            Regina and Ursula turn to the source of the question, finding the blonde barista who’d taken their order wiping down the table next to them.

            Immediately, the girl seems to remember her place and apologizes, “I’m sorry, that isn’t any of my business. Can I help you guys with anything else?”

            With a dry laugh, Regina responds, “Not unless you’re free over Christmas.”

            The barista tilts her head in confusion, prompting Regina to sigh before explaining.

            “My mother’s expecting me to bring my girlfriend home for Christmas, but she broke up with me last week, so I’m paying whoever’s willing to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few days.”

            The barista only stares at her, so she adds, “It’s crazy, I know…”

            “Not crazy,” the blonde jumps in. “Actually, that’s kind of genius.” Cautiously, she questions, “Any luck?”

            Regina sighs, turning back to the laptop, where fur-girl smirks from the screen. “Not really.”

            For a moment, the barista remains silent. Regina’s about to shoo her away so she and Ursula can keep sorting through videos, but then, the blonde steps forward.

            “I mean, I’m no actress, but if you still need someone to do it…”

            Surprised at her offer, Regina eyes the blonde, taking in her innocent green eyes and simple Starbucks uniform. She doesn’t look like she’s expecting sex, or really anything other than monetary compensation for pretending to be someone else, which Regina adds as a plus since that’s exactly what she needs in the first place. It’s amazing how many people couldn’t understand what she’d solicited. As far as she can tell, the barista doesn’t _seem_ any more abnormal than the rest of civilization. She’s not exactly attractive, but Regina supposes it’s more the uniform than the girl’s actual features.

            “She does kind of look like Mal,” Ursula murmurs into her ear. Regina sighs. Not really, but since Mother’s never met the woman and refuses to use Facebook, it doesn’t particularly matter.

            “How well do you get along with parents?” Regina asks.

            “Well, I think.”

            “You realize this is over Christmas. You’ll be with my family for the days leading up to and afterwards. You won’t be able to celebrate it with your own family.”

            Immediately, Emma responds, “That’s not a problem.” Despite her own apathy for the woman, Regina can’t help but wonder about the woman’s response – if she has family problems, or if she’s Jewish and doesn’t celebrate Christmas.

            Beside her, Ursula holds out a pen and the notebook they’ve been using to document the women, which has been turned to a new page. “Great. Give us your name and your contact info and we’ll get back to you.”

            The girl eagerly takes the pad and scribbles down her name and cell phone number. As the blonde hands the pad back to them, Regina takes a glance at her name.

            “Thanks, Emma. We’ll let you know.”

            With a nod and an awkward, “Thanks… uh… have a nice day,” Emma takes her towel and starts wiping down the tables on the opposite side of the room.

            “She could be it,” Ursula whispers, stealing another glance at the woman.

            “Yeah, we’ll see,” Regina muses.

 

Wednesday, December 21, 2016 – Evening

            “Mm, and what else can you do with those magical fingers?”

            Regina groans from where she sits on the couch. Ursula, who’s perched on a stool at Regina’s kitchen island, smirks at her laptop screen, where a live video feed of the fur lady from earlier – who’s name they’ve learned is Vicky – currently plays.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Ursula flirts, and Regina thinks she might not even make it to her mother’s house if the two of them keep this up.

            They’d been video chatting for the last hour or so, exchanging facts about their lives between heated innuendos or flat out references to sex. The last topic had been hobbies, which inspired Ursula to bring up her skill on the piano and prompted what could be some of the worst lines of flirtation Regina’s ever heard. She might actually vomit.

            “Can you two keep it down? I’m trying to figure out my life, here.”

            Ursula barely acknowledges her, smirking at the woman on the other end of the call. She waves a hand in Regina’s direction.

            “Just hire the coffee girl. She looked cute.”

            “How cute?” Vicky cuts in.

            “Mm, not as cute as you, darling.”

            Clutching her head in her hand, Regina groans again.

            “Seriously?”

            This time, Ursula swivels in the stool to face her. “Come on. She’s perfect. You looked her up, she’s not a serial killer. And you’re kind of out of options, anyway.”

            Regina shakes her head. How could a simple _coffee_ _girl_ pretend to be _Mal_ – one of the most impressive, sophisticated people she’s ever met? It doesn’t seem possible.

            “Unless you just want to forget the whole thing and tell your mom you broke up.”

            Grumbling a soft, “fuck,” Regina runs a hand through her already mussed hair. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

            She stares at her laptop again, which currently displays the blonde’s Facebook page. In her profile picture, the woman, lying on a floor of white carpet and donning a red flannel top, smiles playfully at the camera and covers part of her smile with her sleeve. Her blonde hair, lightened by the natural sunlight flooding through the picture, fans out over her shoulders, and her bright green eyes practically shine through the screen. Admittedly, Regina finds the picture cute.

            She scrolls through the rest of the pictures, a mixture of Instagram-worthy selfies and goofy shots with the same two friends – a girl with vibrant red hair streaks and a man with a scruffy beard. One is a shot of the trio eating Pringles, the chips arranged in their mouths so they look like ducks. Another shows her feeding an elephant at the zoo, the animal’s trunk tugging at the greens she holds in her outstretched hand. The blonde smiles at one of her friends off-camera, her mouth opened wide in what Regina guesses is a squeal of excitement. A recent one holds the blonde smiling next to a beautiful brunette who isn’t in any of the other photos.

            At least Regina knows that Emma cleans up nice and seems pretty normal, if a little childish in nature.

            With a sigh of resignation, Regina picks up her cell phone and the slip of paper with Emma’s number on it and dials.

*

            Emma’s lounging around with her friends, a few beers distributed among them, when she feels a buzzing in her pocket. She checks the caller ID to find the words, “Unknown caller,” glaring back at her. Briefly wondering if the delivery guy had gotten lost, Emma presses the button that answers the call and holds her phone up to her ear.

            “Hello?”

            “Miss Swan. This is Regina Mills. The woman you talked to at Starbucks today.”

            “Oh…” Emma stutters. To be honest, she’d been thinking about the two brunettes on and off all day. At first, she wondered if they’d really call her back. She suspected the plan could have fallen through, the woman who’d enacted it deciding to give up and face the music. If they had kept with it, she figured they’d have to call someone else before her. After all, both of them were wearing clean, professional clothes that had to have cost a fortune while talking and typing on sleek, high-tech gadgets; Emma had been wiping down tables with a towel in her grubby Starbucks uniform. There had to be somebody better than her.

            Which is why the smooth, rich voice currently speaking on the other end surprises her.

            “Hi.”

            She lifts her legs from Ruby’s lap, stands, and crosses to the opposite corner of the room for some semblance of privacy.

            There’s a pause on the line before Regina continues. “So it looks like you’ve checked out.”

            Emma’s heart starts to race. Were they actually going to ask her to do it?

            She plays off her nervousness with a joke. “Your Google search tell you I’m not a serial killer?”

            At that, Ruby and Neal glance over and give her questioning looks, curious about why the unnamed caller would google Emma.

            A short silence passes, and Emma wonders if she shouldn’t have made the joke. Apparently, total-professional Regina Mills was not amused. “If you’re still interested, I’d like to meet with you tomorrow morning and discuss the weekend with you, as well as give you all the information you need to know before we leave. I’ll pick you up on Friday afternoon, and we’ll return on Tuesday.”

            “Wait, you’re hiring me?”

            There’s a sigh on the other line. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m fresh out of options and you appear my last one.”

            A bit offended by Regina’s lack of sensitivity, Emma scoffs.

            “Gee, thanks.”

            She can detect the eye roll from here. “Miss Swan, do you want the job or not?”

            Emma jumps at the chance to earn some extra money over the holidays (and spend time with a pretty, yet already aggravating brunette).

            “Yes, absolutely. What time tomorrow?”

            “Can I meet you on my lunch break, around noon?”

            “I’m actually working then, but if you drop by the coffee shop, we can chat there.”

            “All right.”

            Emma’s not sure what to say next. It’s not exactly a conventional job, and clearly Regina isn’t all that happy about being stuck with Emma. Still, a job’s a job, so she should at least seem a little grateful.

            “Uh… thank you.”

            “Good night, Miss Swan.”

            The dial tone echoes on the line before she can even move her phone from her ear.

            “Who was that?”

            Emma turns to face her friends, who offer identical expressions of confusion and interest. She glances down at her hands, both trying to digest what just happened and figuring out the best way to explain the situation.

            “Uh… Ruby, you remember the woman from the coffee shop today?”

            Her friend tucks a streak of scarlet hair behind her ear. “The one that ordered, like, eight different drinks?”

            “No, no, the rude one around lunchtime.”

            Ruby’s face twists into disgust. “Oh, right, her. Did she just call you? Why does she have your number, anyway?”

            Emma sits back down on the couch, staring at her phone in disbelief. This is really happening. Everything transpired so suddenly that she’d think it was a dream if not for Ruby and Neal sitting across from her, witnesses to the call that just took place.

            “She… she kind of offered me a job.”

            “A job? You mean you’re leaving the coffee shop?” Ruby exclaims, disappointed at the prospect of working without Emma.

            Emma raises her hands, quick to calm her friend. “No, no. Just like, a job over this weekend.”

            “But this weekend’s _Christmas_ , and you don’t really look like Santa. What could she have possibly hired you for?”

            Scratching her neck, Emma tries to phrase it in a way that makes it sound a lot less weird than it actually is.

            “Well, I’m uh… pretending to be her girlfriend for the weekend. So her family will stop nagging her or something.”

            Her friends blink. Neal is the first to speak.

            “You’re… getting paid to be some lady’s girlfriend?”

            Blushing, Emma replies, “No, not really, I mean… when you put it like that... no. It’s not real. It’s just so her family will stop bugging her to get a date or something.”

            Ruby narrows her eyes in confusion. “Right,” she drawls. “Cause that’s not a recipe for disaster.”

            “You really wanna spend your Christmas with a bunch of strangers?” Neal adds.

            “It’s not,” Emma insists to Ruby, apt to defend the woman whom only moments ago she’d been arguing with. “And what do you care how I spend my Christmas? Neither of you are gonna be around, anyways.”

            Neal sips his beer, and Ruby crosses her arms. Ruby had been invited by her girlfriend, Dorothy, to come home with her over the holiday and meet her family. They’ve been dating for over two years, and by now they’ve gotten serious enough to start thinking about their future, which includes meeting each other’s families and spending major holidays together. On Friday, they’ll head out to Dorothy’s small hometown in Kansas to spend a weekend on the farm. Emma’s amused to no end by the reaction she’s expecting from Ruby. The girl’s never been outside the city, so Christmas in the country is bound to be a memorable experience.

            On the other hand, Neal’s planned his own trip; he’s been meaning to visit Tallahassee for years, and only now has the money to go. Emma would have come with him if he hadn’t insisted this was one-of-those-things-he-had-to-do-himself.

            Whatever. She’s all for Ruby spending Christmas with her girlfriend and Neal exploring himself, but this meant she’d have to spend Christmas by herself. Which she’s done before and isn’t a big deal, but she’s still a little bitter that both her friends were basically throwing her to the wolves.

            Neal shrugs, not denying that they were doing exactly that. “I’m just saying, it sounds a little weird to me. But if that’s what you want to do, then I think you should do it.”

            Ruby nods. “Yeah. Who knows, maybe it’ll be fun.”

            “Thanks guys,” Emma says, just as a knock sounds at the door, signaling the arrival of their dinner.

            “Food’s here,” Neal proclaims, rising from his seat to meet the delivery guy at the door.

            As he leaves, Emma turns her phone in her hand, wondering what exactly she just got herself into.

 

Thursday, December 22, 2016 – Noon

            Starbucks is bustling with lunch rush customers when Emma spots Regina entering the coffee shop.

            Busy keeping track of six different drink orders, Emma offers an apologetic smile as she holds up a finger and gestures to the table where Regina had sat the day before. Ruby glances up as she counts a customer’s money and eyes her suspiciously. The girls continue taking orders and making drinks until the rush dies down enough for Emma to escape.

            “Hi,” Emma breathily greets, wiping at a splash of coffee that had spilled on her apron with a towel. She pulls herself onto the stool and offers a tired smile. “Sorry. Today’s been pretty hectic.”

            “I can see that,” Regina replies with a quick glance around the room. “I won’t keep you for long. I just wanted to give you this.” From a sleek, shiny black briefcase, Regina extracts a stack of papers and plops them in front of Emma. “This is everything you need to know about me, Mal, my family, and the details of this weekend. Though you must already have my cell phone number due to our call last night, I’ve reprinted it here in case you’ve somehow lost it.”

            Ignoring the deprecating tone in Regina’s voice at possibly losing her phone number, Emma flips through the papers, surprised to see six pages front and back, complete with pictures of family members and detailed descriptions of Mal and her personal life.

            “Whoa, this is like, twelve pages!” she exclaims, already wondering how she’s supposed to learn all of this information by the following day.

Regina shrugs. “Well, we were together for eight months, and friends for longer than that. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

            Flipping back to the front page, she skims Mal’s picture and stats, which are surprisingly precise. The woman’s tall – 5’9”, four inches taller than Emma – and a bit older than her. To be honest, they don’t look all that alike, aside from their long blonde hair. Feeling eyes on her, she glances up to meet brown eyes moving up and down her body.

            “Do you have anything that _isn’t_ coffee-stained?”

            Emma feels a flash of annoyance as she replies, “Yeah, I do.”

            “Good. Bring something nice to wear for Christmas Eve – nothing too formal but nothing with holes. Do you know how to use eyeliner?”

            Emma swallows her agitated replies, reminding herself that she’s getting paid for this. If she can’t take this woman’s critical comments, how will she be able to take the ones from her family? It’s not like she hasn’t heard worse, anyway.

            “Yes,” she bites. “I don’t usually wear makeup to work. But I guess I’ll wear it over the weekend.”

            “Excellent. I’ll pick you up here, tomorrow around two. I’ll quiz you on the packet on the way there.”

            “Okay.”

            Without another word, Regina stalks out, and Emma can’t help but find herself irritated at both the woman and the situation she’d gotten herself into.

            _Oh well_ , she muses. _At least I’m getting paid._

 

Thursday, December 22, 2016 – Evening

            After Emma gets home from her shift, she sticks a TV dinner in the microwave, turns on the coffeepot, and slips into the bathroom for a quick shower.

            She had already switched out all of her shifts and talked to her boss about not working this weekend. He wasn’t happy about the short notice, but honestly, Emma doesn’t think she’s _ever_ seen the man happy.

            After her shower, Emma pulls on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, gets her food from the microwave, and pours herself a large mug of coffee. If she’s going to memorize this entire packet, it’s going to take a while.

            She reads the first few lines of information and reaches for her coffee, but with her eyes fixed on the paper, she misjudges where her mug is and misses, instead knocking her arm against the side of the cup.

            _Clink!_

            Emma watches in horror as the mug tips over, spilling its contents over her table. Her heart practically stops as the hot, dark liquid soaks the packet and, more importantly, her cell phone. The screen flickers before going dark completely.

            Cursing loudly, Emma scrambles for a roll of paper towels from the counter. She picks up her cell phone and desperately wipes it off – she can’t afford a new one right now and if she loses this one, she’ll have to save up for another. She fruitlessly tries to turn it back on, but the screen remains black.

            She curses again, turning her attention to the packet, the front page of which is already illegible from the coffee and running ink. Pressing the paper towels to the top page, she crosses her fingers that the rest of the papers aren’t ruined. She peels them apart and groans in disappointment when she realizes that none of them are legible. Some are even ripping from being weakened by the coffee.

            How is she supposed to be ready for tomorrow if she can’t read the packet?

            Frantically, she checks the pages again for Regina’s phone number; maybe if she calls her now from the payphone downstairs, the two can meet up or Regina can send her another packet; however, as she skims the front page, she finds only a blob of text that _could_ be a phone number, but is too blurred to make out any digits.

            She grumbles as she realizes that she can’t even Facebook stalk her new employer for information as she’d gotten a virus last week and given her computer to a nearby electronics store to debug.

            _Dammit_ , she mutters, crossing to the kitchen and pulling out a plastic bag and a box of rice.

            “Way to go, Swan,” she sighs, dropping her phone into the bag of rice and hoping for the best.

            She checks the time on the oven and curses again, realizing both Ruby and Neal would be out of town by now and therefore unreachable.

            Frustrated, she figures the least she can do now is pack for the trip and get a good night’s sleep. She’s sure she’ll need it.

 

Friday, December 23, 2016 - Morning

            The next morning, Regina drives up to the Starbuck’s entrance to find Emma waiting patiently near the door, black duffel at her feet and two cups of coffee in her hands. Regina parks her Mercedes, pops the trunk, and steps out of it to greet her.

            “Hi,” Emma says, holding out one of the cups. “I brought coffee. Your usual.”

            Regna pauses at the motion, eyeing the cups with surprise and slight suspicion, before gently accepting hers.

            “Thank you. You can put your things in the trunk.”

            “Okay.” Moving to the back of the vehicle, Emma pushes up the door to the trunk and sets her duffel beside Regina’s two small, black suitcases. After she shuts the door, the women face each other awkwardly, the situation unfamiliar to either of them and neither sure how to proceed.

            “You clean up nice,” Regina notes. Without her Starbucks uniform, the girl actually seems pretty cute. Bundled up in a blue leather jacket and white scarf, she shifts from foot to foot as the brunette scrutinizes her appearance. As per Regina’s request, Emma’s eyeliner is perfectly done, and Regina’s pleased at the end result.

            “Thanks,” Emma says. “You do, too.”

            Regina glances down at her own getup – a black pea coat and heeled leather boots. She’d done her makeup meticulously this morning, trying to make sure nothing would be out of place when she saw her mother today.

            “Thank you,” Regina says. “Shall we get going?”

            Emma shrugs, so Regina opens her door to get in, but a second later, Emma’s talking again.

            “Um, before we leave, I have a bit of a confession.”

            At the word _confession_ , Regina’s eyes grow suspicious and she glares at the other woman, worried about what that could mean. “What?”

            Emma scratches the back of her neck and licks her lips. “Um… I kind of accidentally ruined the packet you gave me.”

            The brunette narrows her eyes. “What do you mean _ruined_?”

            “I… I kind of spilled coffee all over it. I tried to save it but you couldn’t read it at all.”

            Regina takes a deep breath. This is okay. This is a setback, but not the end of the world. “That’s okay, I have an extra copy for us to go over before we get there. How much did you get to read before this happened?”

            Emma shifts from one foot to the other. “Uh… maybe a couple sentences.”

            Regina’s eyes go wide. “You… you only read a few sentences.”

            “Yeah. I would have called you but the coffee also killed my phone and I couldn’t read your phone number so I couldn’t use a payphone and –”

            “You mean, you didn’t read _anything_ in the packet?”

            Emma’s cheeks redden. “I’m really sorry, there wasn’t anything I could do, I tried…”

            “You realize you just screwed everything up, right?”

            “I mean, we could still –”

            “I asked you to do one simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that.”

            “I know, I’m sorry, but we can still do this –”

            Regina shakes head. “How am I supposed to trust you to do this with me if I can’t trust you to do one thing overnight?”

            Emma runs a stressed hand through her hair. “You’re not,” she cedes. “You’re right, I haven’t given you any reason to believe that we’ll be able to do this.”

            Regina’s practically livid now, clutching her car keys with so much force that her knuckles turn white. “Then what are you even doing here? You’ve just wasted my time when I could’ve been looking for someone else.”

            Desperate to fix her mistake, Emma rushes over to the brunette. “Look, I know I messed up. I know this is something I can’t take back.”

            Regina, unimpressed with her apology, presses her lips together in a thin line.

            “But I’m the only chance you have.”

            Upon hearing those words, Regina huffs and glances at her car.

            This idiot ruined everything. She couldn’t even make it a _day_ before causing a problem. How were they supposed to last an entire weekend? She never should have chosen Emma Swan for this.

            Except now she’s at an impasse. Emma’s right; there’s no way she’ll be able to find anyone else to go with her, not this close to Christmas. The only way she can finish her plan is with the woman in front of her, however useless she may be. And it would be better to show up with a poor date than without one at all.

            Resigned, Regina sighs and turns to Emma.

            “Fine. Only because I don’t have time to find someone else and I can’t show up without someone. We’ll go over everything on the ride there.”

            Regina slips into the driver’s seat and slams the car door. Emma scurries into the passenger seat, at least having the decency to seem sheepish and guilty. Hopefully she won’t screw up anything else this weekend.

            As Regina pulls out of the lot, she tosses a packet of papers into Emma’s lap.

            “Start reading.”


	3. December 23, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina is an asshole... and then Cora happens.
> 
> (This chapter is a bit longer but a lot is going to happen. Hope you like it!)

Friday, December 23, 2016 – Afternoon

            Regina’s beginning to regret this whole plan, and it’s only been an hour.

            The blonde has an incredible knack for spilling her coffee. Fifteen minutes into the drive, Emma spilled her cup all over herself, prompting Regina to pull over and make her get out of the car to clean up. Emma’s shirt was ruined, and Regina, in her haste to get back on the road, offered one of her own tops.

            Now, Regina’s grilling her on the contents of the packet, which Emma had spent the first hour reading through, while Emma pinches the smooth, silky fabric of Regina’s shirt between her fingers.

            “How are you to address my mother?”

            “I have to call her Mrs. Mills when I meet her, but afterwards she’ll ask me to call her Cora.”

            “My father?”

            “Same thing. Mr. Mills, until he tells me to call him Henry.”

            “My sister’s name?”

            “Zelena.”

            “Her husband’s name?”

            “Walsh?”

            “And her kids are…”

            “Hunter, 6 years old, and Kelly…” She stops to think. “3 years old.”

            “My birthday is?”

            “February 1st.”

            “My job is?”

            Emma stumbles on this one. “Uh… business?”

            “I’m the project manager at Queen and Company.”

            “Right.”

            “My hobbies include…”

            “Being an uptight bitch.”

            For a moment, the car goes quiet, and Emma wonders if she should have just kept her mouth shut.

            Then, Regina shakes her head and chuckles. “Think what you want dear. It’s not like I don’t hear that often enough at work.”

            Emma wonders for a moment what Regina’s like at her job before concluding that this is probably it: being harsh when people don’t meet expectations and rejecting anything less than stellar. Which, she muses, is good for the company, but bad for interpersonal relationships.

            “My hobbies.”

            “Cooking and reading.”

            “My favorite activity as a child?”

            “Horseback riding.”

            “Okay, enough about me. Now, I’ll ask you about Mal. When did we meet?”

            “Three years ago. You guys were always the last people to leave the library…”

            “We,” Regina corrects.

            Emma huffs. “ _We_ were always the last to leave the library. You were reading for fun and I was studying for my exams. We stayed friends for a few years before she made a move on you –”

            Regina coughs.

            “Before _I_ made a move on you.”

            “When did we get together.”

            “April… 6th?”

            “April 3rd.”

            “Dammit,” Emma curses. “There’s so much to remember!”

            “Well, you’d probably remember more of it if you didn’t ruin your packet last night.”

            “I _said_ I was sorry.”

            “And you can show it by making an effort to learn all this before we get there.”

            “I’m _trying_ ,” Emma huffs, exasperated. “Geez, I feel like I’m studying for finals all over again.”

            Regina barks a laugh. “If you think college finals were bad, try putting yourself through medical school.”

            Emma fights back a blush, stiffening in her seat.

            “I never went to college.”

            The car instantly quiets, their rhythm of question, answer, and comment broken as the callousness flees from Regina’s eyes. The brunette stares at the road as she sheepishly replies, “You said finals…”

            “High school finals.”

            “Oh.”

            Regina continues to watch the road as she stiffly adds, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to assume.”

            “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” And really, it doesn’t. Emma’s not bothered by it, never has been, but a small prod of irritation pokes her as she realizes how different she is from the woman she’s portraying. “Ask me another question.”

            “What was Mal’s undergraduate major?”

            “Biology.”

            “Where did she go to medical school?”

            “Boston University.”

            “Where is her residency?”

            “Boston Medical Center.”

            “How many years does she have left in her residency?”

            “Two.”

            “If my mother asks how much you make, you say…?”

            “I’d prefer not to share. I make enough to take care of myself and Regina, and that’s all you need to know.”

            “Excellent. She’ll definitely bring it up, but the money you make is none of her business. If she pushes for more, I’ll help you.”

            Emma nods her understanding.

            “Number of partners before me?”

            She can’t remember the answer, and instead stalls by asking, “Why does that matter?”

            “My mother will want to ensure you’re not a flake.”

            “Technically, Mal _did_ flake out on you.”

            Regina shoots her a glare, threatening Emma with a silent _shut up now or so help me_. “That’s none of your business. Number of partners.”

            The intensity of her eye daggers makes Emma back off the subject immediately. “Um… four?”

            “Three. Why did you break up with your last girlfriend?”

            “She moved to Germany.” Emma suspects there’s more to the story, but the simplest answer that won’t reflect badly on Mal is one in which the parting appears friendly and reasonable.

            “Where did you grow up?”

            “Um… Maryland?”

            “New Jersey. Siblings?”

            “Only child.”

            Regina continues to grill her, correcting her on mistakes and repeating old questions to solidify the information into Emma’s brain. After what seems like ages, Emma finally says, “Can we take a break?”

            “No,” Regina snaps instantly. “We need to be ready. Our first date?”

            “Come on, Regina, we’ve been at this for almost two hours. Can we please just take a break, listen to the radio?”

            Without waiting for an answer, Emma leans forward and turns on the radio – which had been off for the duration of their ride thus far.

            “Emma!” Regina argues, her gaze flicking between the road and the dials on her radio. Emma scans through the stations until she finds one playing Christmas music, but when she leans back and starts singing along to the current song – “White Christmas” – Regina leans over and shuts off the console.

            “Hey!” Emma protests, turning it back on.

            Regina shuts it off. “We still have a lot to cover.”

            “Come on. At least let it play in the background. What’s Christmas without Christmas music?”

            Emma switches it on again and waits for Regina to turn it off. Instead, the brunette huffs, defeated.

            “Fine.” She turns it down slightly so the women can talk over it, but reluctantly leaves it on. “First date.”

            Giddy with getting her way and excited to listen to some Christmas tunes, Emma smiles as she replies, “I’m supposed to say I took you out to a nice restaurant, but when your sister asks for the real story, I tell her we went to a rock concert, got drunk at a gay bar, and had wild sex in my apartment.”

            Personally, Emma can’t see Uptight Bitch Regina Mills doing _anything_ that would involve fun, but, hey, she’s not going to question the already irritated woman (though that doesn’t mean she can’t provoke her a little).

            Regina gives her the side-eye. “You can leave off the last bit, dear.”

            “What? It’s probably true, isn’t it?”

            Emma swears she catches a smirk cross Regina’s face before the woman turns on her. “You really think my sister would enjoy hearing about that?”

            “From what you’ve told me about her, I’m sure she’ll think it anyway. Might as well confirm it.”

            Regina shakes her head in exasperation. “Please, just mention the concert and the bar. Nothing else.”

            Emma leans back in her seat, smirking. “Fine.”

            “I mean it.”

            “I know.”

            Regina’s about to ask another question when the opening bars of a familiar song play through the speakers.

            “Oh my gosh, I love this song!” Immediately, Emma turns up the music and sings along.

            “ _I… don’t want a… lot for Christmas…_ ”

            She puts a little extra flair on the next line, but before the song continues, Regina flicks the radio off.

            “Hey!”

            “Focus, Emma.”

            “You shut off Mariah Carey.”

            “Because we have more important things to be doing.”

            “But this is my favorite…” As if to prove her point, Emma switches the song back on.

            “… _more than you could ever_ …”

            Regina shuts it off again.

            “We’re studying. I can’t have you distracted by an overplayed Christmas song that I’m sure you hear often enough.”

            Emma grunts. “It’s not just _any_ song, it’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’”

            “Yes, I’m aware of the song.”

            “Then you know how awesome it is.” She leans forward to turn on the radio again, but Regina catches her wrist.

            “I don’t care how ‘awesome’ the song is. We don’t have time to mess around. We’ve wasted enough time as it is arguing about this.”

            Trying to slow her rapid heartbeat caused by the woman’s touch, Emma yanks her wrist back, slouches in her seat, and mutters, “Fine.”

*

            The rest of the ride passes by uneventfully, the time spent going over the packet or arguing about trivial things. Honestly, Emma wonders how they're going to pull this off if they're constantly arguing with each other.

            After driving up a long, windy road lined by snow-covered trees, they pass a worn, wooden sign proclaiming, “Welcome to Storybrooke.”

            Emma snorts at the name as they drive on. “You grew up in a town called Storybrooke? Sounds like it came out of a movie.”

            Rolling her eyes, Regina comments, “It’s not like I named it, Miss Swan.”

            They drive on.

*

            When Regina parks in the driveway of a huge-ass mansion, Emma completely flips.

            “Your parents live _here_?”

            “I did, too, until I moved to Boston.”

            Emma marvels at the size of the place. She’s sure it’s twice the size of her biggest foster house. The walls glare a bright white, and the hedges around the outside are neatly trimmed.

            “ _Damn_ …” she whispers, unbuckling her seatbelt.

            Regina turns off the car, gathers her purse, and leads the way to the front porch, Emma following behind like a puppy.

            Emma’s nerves begin to get the best of her. This is it. All the studying they’d done in the car is about to pay off, and they’re about to find out if this will really work or not. What if someone finds out? What if Emma says something incorrectly and, because of that, everyone knows the truth? What if Regina’s family just doesn’t like her? Emma just hopes she doesn’t fuck it all up.

            “Here we go,” Regina mumbles, turning the knob and opening the door.

            As they enter the house, two kids excitedly scream and rush towards them, colliding into Regina’s legs with a _thump_ and nearly knocking her over.

            “Auntie Regina!” the girl with bright red hair screams. _Kelly_ Emma remembers, closing the door behind them.

            “I missed you!” the older brunette boy screeches. Hunter.

            Regina’s smile widens naturally as she bends down to plant kisses on their heads and pull them in for hugs. Emma stares dumbfounded at the woman who, five minutes ago, had been scolding her at her incapacity to remember anything. She’s not sure she’s ever seen the woman smile, let alone guessed that she’d have the capacity to care about small children.

            “Auntie Regina, I lost a tooth!” Hunter exclaims, flashing a wide smile and pointing to an empty space in his bottom row of teeth.

            “Wow, your first one! Did the tooth fairy come and visit you?”

            “Yup! And he left me $20!”

            Both Emma and Regina’s eyes widen in surprise.

            “Wow…” Regina starts. “The rate’s pretty high, now, isn’t it? When I was your age, he only gave me a nickel and some dental floss.”

            The 6-year-old frowns at such a small gift before laughing. “Mommy says maybe the tooth fairy left me too much by accident, but I got to keep all of it!”

            Kelly giggles at her brother’s story. “The tooth fairy’s gonna give me a _hundred_ dollars!”

            “Nuh uh,” Hunter brags.

            “Hunter, Kelly,” Regina interrupts, breaking up the argument before it begins. “I’d like you to meet someone. This is Mal. Can you say hi?”

            Emma takes this as her cue and squats down to their eye level.

            “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” she says, smiling brightly, trying to warm them to her.

            “Nice to meet you,” Hunter grunts out monotonously. It sounds forced, like a rehearsed phrase his mother’s taught him to say to new people. He turns back excitedly to Regina. “Did you bring us presents?”

            Regina laughs as she takes off her coat. “Yes I did, but you know you can’t open them until Christmas.”

            Hunter groans, but Emma notices Kelly’s eyes still plastered shyly and curiously on her.

            “Regina says you guys like to play in the snow,” Emma tries. Kelly’s head makes the tiniest of nods. “Maybe sometime this weekend we can play outside together?” Kelly stares for a few more moments before nodding tentatively again and squishing into Regina’s side.

            “Don’t feel bad,” Regina says. “They’re just shy. They’ll warm up to you.”

            Hearing footsteps, Emma glances up to see an _extremely_ pregnant woman – with vibrant red hair to match the girl’s – waddling through the foyer to Regina, a wide grin plastered on her face. Regina glances up, catching the woman’s eye.

            Instantly, the redhead shrieks, “HEEEEEY!”

            Smiling at the woman, whom Emma now recognizes from the packet as Regina’s sister, Regina stands and lets herself be engulfed by a gigantic hug, tugged in over a watermelon-shaped belly. Emma stands as well and, removing her coat, watches with an amused smile.

            When they pull away, Regina’s hands fly to her sister’s protruding stomach as she exclaims, “Look at you. You’re _huge_!”

            “Yes, well, Baby Pistachio’s due any day now, and I think whoever it is’ll be a big one.”

            Regina huffs, hands moving to grasp her sister’s. “Please tell me you’re not naming the baby _Pistachio_.”

            The redhead laughs. “Walsh and I can’t decide on a name, so until we pick one, Pistachio it is.”

            Regina rolls her eyes and gives her sister a pointed look, “We better not be calling that child _Pistachio_ fifteen years from now.” The redhead chuckles at the quip and Emma does as well, drawing the women’s attention to herself. Gesturing between the two, Regina announces, “Mal, this is my sister, Zelena. Zelena, this is my girlfriend, Mal.”

            Emma offers a friendly smile, and Zelena’s eyes light up as she yanks the blonde in for a hug. Startled by Zelena’s forwardness, Emma wraps her arms loosely around the woman’s shoulders. She’s never hugged a pregnant woman before (none of her friends have been pregnant yet, and she has no relatives or cousins to hug), so it’s a new experience to have a baby in between them.

            “It’s nice to _finally_ meet you, Mal. Regina’s told us so much about you, and I must say, you’re much more attractive than she’s let on. No wonder she’s been keeping you to herself!”

            She barks a laugh, and Regina leans over to mutter, “She’s kidding. She’s straight as they come.”

            “As far as you know.” Winking at Emma, Zelena continues. “But you’re right, I do prefer a nice hunk of _man_ over…”

            “Zelena,” Regina admonishes, indicating the kids behind her with a tilt of her head.

            Zelena smirks, playing her statement off with a wave of the hand. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

            Emma decides that she likes Zelena.

            Just then, an older woman in a dark pencil skirt and blazer appears in the archway to the living room, smiling at her guests, and Emma freezes in her tracks. She knows upon spotting her that this is the person they have to convince the most.

            “Oh, there’s my darling daughter. Welcome home, sweetheart!” The woman opens her arms and Regina instantly crosses the room and folds herself into them.

            “Mother,” she greets as they pull away.

            The woman grins as she chides, “Really, Regina, it’s been too long. You should come home more often.”

            “Well, you know how work is. I had to pull quite a few strings to get away just for this weekend.”

            The older woman tuts, but says nothing more as she takes in her daughter. “You cut your hair.”

            “I cut it last year,” Regina reminds her, seeming slightly irritated.

            “Oh, right, you did,” Cora corrects. “Well, maybe I would have remembered that if you bothered to come around more than once a year.”

            For her part, Regina looks slightly guilty for her rare visits, but doesn’t say anything else. Cora goes on. “That said, you do look very nice, dear.”

            Her eyes then flutter to Emma, who shifts nervously in her gaze.

            “And this must be Mal.”

            The older woman scans Emma from head to toe, clearly analyzing every aspect of the blonde’s outward appearance. Without looking down at herself, Emma tries to detect if anything is out of place – a button mismatched, a hair in the wrong place, anything that would call for criticism. She belatedly remembers that she’s still wearing Regina’s shirt and wonders if Cora recognizes it. She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as the woman’s eyes continue to scrutinize her.

            Emma raises her eyebrows and plasters on a smile. “Yep, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Mills.”

            The woman chuckles, waving a hand between them. “Oh please, call me Cora. We’re practically family anyways.” Without warning, Cora’s arms spread again and hang loosely around Emma’s shoulders. As Emma receives the hug, she wonders whether she should be flattered by the hug or scared because of the way Cora had immediately chastised her daughter after their hug. Does Cora like her or hate her? Can she tell that they’re lying?

            As they pull away, Cora’s hands find Emma’s, and the older woman smiles. “Come, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? It’s a bit early but I can get out the wine if you’d like.”

            “Actually, a glass of water would be great, thanks,” Emma says, following Cora to the living room. A kindly old man sits in the biggest armchair, balding with wisps of grey hair around the sides of his head and wearing a long-sleeved green sweater paired with khakis.

            As Cora leaves to fetch some water, the man stands to greet his daughter. Regina immediately steps forward to hug him, and the two hold each other tightly for a long moment, Regina whispering a soft, “Hi Daddy.”

            When they part, he turns to Emma.

            “So you’re the woman who’s been dating my daughter.”

            She offers him a polite smile, and he offers a warm one in return, opening his arms wide.

            _This must be a family of huggers_ , Emma thinks as she moves in for the hug.

            “Uh… yup. That’s me.”

            The man’s hug feels more welcoming than Cora’s; he envelops her in his arms and pats her gently on the back before releasing.

            “You can call me Henry.”

            At the man’s kind look, Emma cedes easily. “Okay, Henry.”

            He gestures to the couch, where Regina has already seated herself in the center. Emma sits down next to her – leaving several inches between them – and Henry walks around the back of the couch to sit on Regina’s left. Zelena waddles toward the opposite couch and plops down on a cushion, while the two kids bound off elsewhere in the house to play.

            “Your house is very nice,” Emma notes, taking in the grandiose decorations inside. Wreathes and garlands hang from the walls, and several red and green candles are placed sporadically around the room. With a glance behind her, Emma spots the tall, wide tree sitting in the window, decorated with golden lights, ornate silver and gold ornaments, and glass balls. She briefly questions whether such ornaments, which scale the full length of the tree, are appropriate for the children – especially Kelly, the youngest – to be around, but dismisses the thought.

            “Thank you,” Cora says as she reenters the room. She carries a tray with red and green plastic cups for the kids, as well as two glasses of water, three pristine white mugs, and an unlabeled tin container. She sets the tray on the table, and everyone reaches for their own drinks. Emma watches Regina remove the tin lid to reveal tea leaves. Using a shiny spoon from the tray, Regina stirs a few tea leaves into a white mug and hands the drink to her father. She prepares a tea for herself before passing the leaves to her mother, who makes the third cup of tea.

            “So,” Cora begins, stirring her drink and leaning back against the sofa, “How was the drive up?”

            “Not bad,” Regina replies. “Just had to deal with the usual holiday traffic.”

            “Well, I’m glad you’re both here now.” She turns her attention to Emma. “Regina tells us that you’re a gynecologist.”

            “Uh, yep. Yes, I am.” Out of the corner of her eye, Emma catches Regina making the tiniest shake of her head, and Emma tacks onto the end, “Well, technically I’m still in residency, but that’s the goal.”

            Cora sips her tea. “How’s that going?”

            “Oh, it’s good, yeah, just… you know, helping with childbirth, checking out the ol’ lady parts…” Emma sips nervously on her water, clueless in how to discuss a job she knows little about and hoping for a subject change very soon.

            Leaning forward, Cora offers a curious look. “Now, I understand that you’re a lesbian…”

            Emma nods, stomach churning as she wonders where Cora’s going with this. “That’s why I’m dating your daughter.”

            “In gynecology.”

            “Right…”

            “So you must see a lot of…?” Cora’s words trail off, and she turns her palm over a few times to fill in the rest of her sentence. The insinuation makes Emma’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

            Zelena protests with a simple, “Mother!” at the same time Regina says, “I really don’t think that’s appropriate _or_ relevant…”

            “Of course it’s relevant, dear,” Cora says. “If Mal’s spending all day looking at… other women… oh, Regina, I just want to ensure your needs are taken care of and that your life in the bedroom…”

            Emma spots a blush forming at the bottom of Regina’s neck. “I’d rather not talk to my _mother_ about my bedroom life.”

            “I’m just trying to look out for you, dear. With Mal’s line of work, I’m just afraid…”

            “You know, straight men are gynecologists, too,” Regina interrupts.

            “Yes, and please tell me what you know about their sex lives.”

            “I don’t know anything about them because that’s not really something you _share_ with other people.”

            “Of course.” Cora, though clearly unfazed by Regina’s words and likely still eager to talk about it, graciously takes the subject off the table. She sips her tea again before speaking, addressing her next statement to Emma. “So, dear, how did you propose?”

            Instantly, Emma feels Regina go tense beside her.

            “Mother, we weren’t,” Regina catches herself and corrects, “ _aren’t_ … engaged.”

            Cora raises an eyebrow at the mistake but breezes over it nonetheless. “Oh, well, you two should do it soon, especially if you plan to have children. Speaking of which, who will carry the baby? Or are you planning to adopt?”

             “ _Mother_.” Chancing a glance at Regina, Emma notes the flushing of the brunette’s cheeks and the irritated look across her face.

            “What? I’m just making simple conversation. You did say you want children, didn’t you, Regina?”

            “Yes, I did, but…”

            “Then I see nothing wrong with me asking how you plan to accomplish –”

            “I’d like to adopt.”

            Cora and Regina stop bickering and turn their attention to Emma, who had suddenly spoken.

            Emma feels her face heat up. She’d only noticed how flustered Regina was becoming and wanted to save her from her mother’s line of fire. Regina may be an uptight bitch, but she doesn’t deserve the overly intrusive interrogation she’s currently receiving.

            Now, realizing she has to say something else, the blonde continues, meeting Regina’s eye. “I mean, I know we haven’t really talked about it yet, but I think if I have kids, I’d like to adopt them.” She glances at the other adults in the room. “I know what the foster system’s like. Not having someone, not having a family… well… that’s the worst curse imaginable.”

            Glancing back at Regina, Emma checks to make sure that what she’d said was okay and receives a tiny nod of gratitude in return. (The rest of the family probably interpreted it as agreement.)

            Cora narrows her eyes. “How do you know what the foster system is like?”

            Stomach dropping, Emma realizes her mistake. Mal probably has parents. Regina’s probably mentioned them to Cora.

            “I have friends that went through it,” she replies quickly. “My best friend, Neal, he aged out of it. I want to stop that from happening to anyone else, if I can.”

            Emma feels her heart thumping in her chest, wondering whether Cora would accept this response. It’s only been about twenty-five minutes, and Emma would be dammed if she fucked everything up already.

            But she hasn’t overshared, has she? It’s not like she admitted to being in the foster system herself – she had only mentioned Neal. So why does Cora still look a bit unhappy about Emma’s answer?

            Finally, the older woman smiles thinly and replies, “That’s very noble of you.”

            Unsure of what Cora’s response is supposed to mean and ready to change the subject, Emma turns her attention to Zelena. “So, is the baby a boy or a girl?”

            Zelena rubs her protruding middle. “We want it to be a surprise. We didn’t ask to know Hunter or Kelly’s sex, either. As long as he or she is healthy, Walsh and I will be happy no matter who comes out of here.”

            Regina leans forward, glancing around the room. “Speaking of Walsh, where is he?”

            Zelena chuckles. “I got a craving for onion rings. He went out to get some for me.”

            “She’s got him waiting on her hand and foot,” Henry supplies amusedly.

            “A bit like my own trained monkey,” Zelena muses. “I love him though. He takes really good care of me and the kids and puts up with all of my mood swings.”

            “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of those, even when you’re not pregnant,” Regina says teasingly. Zelena shoots her a look of mock irritation.

            “Ha. Ha. Just wait until you’re big and fat like me – _then_ we’ll see who’s the Queen of All Mood Swings.”

            Regina rolls her eyes and chuckles again, though her laugh seems less genuine this time. She quickly changes the topic.

            Cora brings up every taboo subject she possibly can, including religion, money, and politics. Emma wonders if Cora has any boundaries at all, and the answer seems to be _absolutely none._ Luckily, she and Regina are able to breeze over her questions easily.

            “So dear, are you a religious person?”

            “Not really.”

            “Oh, that’s all right. We aren’t, either. I just wanted to know if my grandchildren would be growing up with a religion or not.” At the mention of grandchildren, Regina protests Cora’s assumption that she and Mal are even planning to get married, let alone having children, and thankfully, Cora lets the topic slide.

            “Now, how much do you make a year?”

            Emma repeats her rehearsed answer. “The actual figure isn’t important. I do make enough to take care of myself and Regina, though.”

            Cora narrows her eyes. “But what _is_ the figure?”

            “Mother, please.”

            “I simply want to make sure you’re cared for. Of course, I don’t doubt that Mal can provide for your basic needs, but a little luxury never hurt anyone, did it?”

            Thankfully, Regina navigates the conversation well, and eventually steers Cora away from the topic. Emma wonders what would have happened if Cora had coaxed a figure out of them.

            For about fifteen minutes, Cora rants about politics and verifies Emma’s party affiliation.

            “I can’t believe our country allowed that bumbling idiot to take office. I may be a Republican, but that man has made a mockery of our party.”

            Emma’s not sure why, but she finds herself surprised that Cora hadn’t supported the man who’d won the election. Perhaps it’s because Cora seems so strict and stubborn, combined with the fact that they’re currently in a small rural town. Nonetheless, it’s a relief to know that Cora didn’t support such a repulsive candidate.

Just then, the front door opens and closes, thankfully interrupting Cora’s political tirade and line of questioning.

            “Honey, is that you?” Zelena calls.

            A few thumps from the intruder wiping his shoes on the rug, taking them off, and removing his coat sound before a tall, lean man makes his way into the room. He smiles widely at his wife, brushing long, disheveled blonde hair out of his eyes as he passes a steaming paper bag to Zelena.

            “Yes!” she cheers, opening the bag and peering at its contents. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She leans forward, prompting Walsh to bend down and peck her on the lips.

            As Zelena takes out her first onion ring, she uses it to point between Walsh and Emma. “Walsh, this is Regina’s girlfriend, Mal. Mal, this is my trained monk- I mean, my loving husband, Walsh.”

            “Ha. Ha,” Walsh fake-laughs, ruffling Zelena’s hair as he takes a seat next to her. Evidently, it’s a joke he’s heard before. “Maybe I’ll take those onion rings back.”

            Zelena hugs the bag to her chest, eyes widening as she speaks through a full mouth, “No way!”

            Walsh chuckles as he leans across the table and stretches a hand in Emma’s direction.

            “It’s nice to meet you.”

            Emma smiles at him, glad for a sense of normalcy after everything that had transpired with Cora. She shakes his hand. “You, too.”

            The adults chat for a while and catch up on each other’s lives. After a while, Cora suggests that Regina and ‘Mal’ get their things from the car. When they’ve got their suitcases, Cora directs them upstairs – mostly for Emma’s benefit, since she’s the only one that’s never been to the mansion before.

            “We have three guest bedrooms. Zelena’s in her old room with Walsh.” They pass a bedroom where the lime green comforter has already been disturbed. Emma wonders how long Zelena and her family have been here before she and Regina arrived. They pass a second bedroom, the door closed shut. “The kids will stay in here.” They make it to the third room, and Cora opens the door wide. “Which means, Regina, you and Mal will be staying in your old bedroom. Why don’t you two unpack? Come downstairs for dinner when you’re finished.”

            “Thank you, Mother,” Regina says as they lug their suitcases inside. Cora disappears, and Emma glances at the giant bed. Emma’s not sure why, but the dark crimson comforter, white sheets, and black and white pillows seem very Regina-esque, even though Emma’s only known her for a couple of days.

            She looks around for a second bed or an air mattress, and when she doesn’t find one, she starts laughing.

            “What?” Regina asks.

            “It’s like your Mom thinks if we sleep in the same bed that we’ll be able to get pregnant and give her the grandchild she wants. She _does_ realize we’re both women, right?”

            Emma chuckles at her own joke, but stops when she realizes Regina hadn’t found it funny.

            “I can get out the air mattress if you prefer…”

            “No!” Emma exclaims. “I mean, no, that’s fine, unless you’re uncomfortable. What will your mom think when she sees us sleeping in separate beds?”

            “Well, my actual relationship with Mal’s already ended, so I don’t think it’d matter much. Maybe seeing us in separate beds would make it easier on her when I tell her the inevitable.”

            Emma moves to one side of the bed. “No, really, it’s okay. We can share the bed; I don’t mind.” She plops her duffel onto the mattress and finds the bag of rice with her phone in it, wondering if she should wait longer before trying to turn it on. “I’m here to convince your mom we’re in a happy relationship, not that we’re about to break up. Otherwise, what’s the point in bringing me, right?” She glances at the other woman for the answer.

            Regina crosses her arms and cedes, “Right, of course.”

            Nodding to herself, Emma shuffles through her suitcase again.

            “Emma,” Regina interrupts.

            “Yeah?” Emma looks at her again and sees that Regina’s sheepishly standing with her arms crossed over her stomach.

            Almost embarrassedly, Regina mumbles, “Thank you. For what you said back there. About wanting to adopt.”

            Shrugging, Emma tries to play it off. “It’s nothing. Your mom was getting a little… intense, you know? I just wanted to take the heat off of you for a second.”

            Regina shakes her head. “It’s not nothing. You didn’t have to step in, but you did. Even though I’ve spent a better part of the last few hours chastising you.”

            Emma offers a half-smile, seeing the apology in Regina’s words. “I get it, you’re under a lot of pressure. It’s okay.”

            “It’s not. You’re doing me a _huge_ favor, and there’s no way I’m getting through this without you.”

            With a nod, Emma replies, “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

            Visibly relaxing, Regina’s lips twitch into a half-smile to match Emma’s. “Thank you.”

            Again, Emma digs through her suitcase, but Regina interrupts her with a soft, “Um…”

            Pausing her ministrations, Emma glimpses at the woman, who’s resumed an uncomfortable pose. “What?”

            Shyly, Regina supplies, “That’s my side of the bed.”

            Immediately, Emma jumps up and hauls her stuff with her. “Oh, right, no problem. I’ll go over here then.” She moves to the other side of the bed and sets her phone on that nightstand.

            “Thanks,” Regina says softly, moving to her side of the bed. The two begin to go through their bags, unpacking things that need to be unpacked and putting things in their proper places. Regina hangs a dress and some other clothes in the near-empty closet on one side of the room, and Emma stows another pair of boots, a pair of heels, and a pair of sneakers beneath her side of the bed.

            Once they’re settled in, Emma follows Regina back down the stairs. When they reach the foyer, the warm, rich scent of spaghetti sauce meets Emma’s nose, and she sighs contentedly. Regina heads for the kitchen, Emma trailing behind her, and finds Cora standing over the stove, stirring a pot of red spaghetti sauce.

            Emma’s never seen such a nice kitchen. White cabinets and a marble countertop line the walls, and a window over the sink looks out over the backyard. On one side of the room, there’s a large electric stove above an oven, as well as two more ovens embedded into the wall beside it. All the appliances appear to be relatively new, their silver doors and handles gleaming in the evening light. A large kitchen island stands in the middle of the room, marble countertop hidden beneath dishes, ingredients, and a cutting board. The structure also serves as a breakfast bar, and the side facing away from the oven and sink houses four kitchen stools waiting to be sat on.

            Along the wall opposite the sink is a short kitchen table, where two chairs reside. Zelena sits in one, mid-argument with her mother.

            “…I’m just saying, this is the third time I’ve been pregnant. I know my limits.”

            “You just stay seated, darling. I’ll take care of everything.”

            Zelena grumbles and crosses her arms, noticing her sister’s presence and looking to her for help.

            “What are you two arguing about?” Regina asks, spotting the salad bowl on the island filled with lettuce and the various vegetables that have yet to be cut. She moves toward it, picks up a knife, and begins cutting a cucumber.

            “Mother won’t let me help with dinner because I’m pregnant and therefore completely incapable of anything.”

            “You’re not incapable, dear, I just don’t want you to strain yourself.”

            Emma approaches Regina, a silent offer to help, but Regina just gestures to one of the island stools, so Emma takes a seat across from her and watches the scene unfold.

            “Which is what I’ve been saying. This isn’t my first rodeo – I won’t strain myself.”

            “You just let me handle it. You came here to relax over the holidays and to be closer to the hospital should you suddenly go into labor. Let me take care of you.”

            Zelena huffs, uncrossing her arms and settling them over her stomach.

            “I can help.”

            “Sweetheart, just relax.”

            “But Mother, I –”

            “Zelena,” Regina interrupts. “Let it go. You’ve been given an excuse to do nothing. Take advantage of it.”

            Sighing, Zelena pushes herself up from the chair and waddles toward the door. “You know, it’s not nice to gang up on people.” The statement isn’t meant seriously, but it’s still laced with irritation. “I’m going to the living room.”

            After Zelena leaves, it’s just Emma, Regina, and Cora in the kitchen. Emma watches the other two fuss over dinner for a few moments before offering, “Can I help?”

            “No, no, dear,” Cora replies as she drains the pasta. “You’re our guest. You just sit there and relax. Regina and I can handle this.”

            Regina glances at her mother before offering a half-smile at Emma, as if she knew Cora would respond that way and is telling Emma not to worry about it.

            From this, Emma gathers that Cora’s the kind of woman who likes to do things herself and silently promises to stay out of her way for the rest of the weekend.

            Surprisingly, Cora makes polite and appropriate small talk as the women continue to prepare dinner, asking harmless questions about their life in Boston, which Emma and Regina team up to answer, and Mal’s family, the answers to which Emma purely makes up on the spot.

            “Is your family okay with you spending Christmas here?”

            “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

            “What do you usually do for Christmas?”

            “Well,” Emma drawls, glancing at Regina for permission to bullshit her answer. Regina nods, giving her the green light. “I go up to my parents’ place and we spend some time there before going to my aunt’s house, where the rest of my family gets together.”

            “That sounds nice,” Cora muses, as she mixes the spaghetti and sauce together. “Do you have siblings?”

            Emma knows this. “No, I’m an only child.”

            “I see. So it must be nice to get together with your family and the cousins you grew up with.” Cora opens one of the ovens and pulls out the garlic bread, which has been toasted to a perfect golden brown.

            “Uh, yeah, definitely. It’s great.”

            Using a pair of tongs, Cora transfers the toast to a basket with a towel in it.

            “Well, we’re glad you came to spend it with us this year. It’s nice to have someone that means so much to Regina here.”

            “Yeah, uh, thanks. It’s good to be here.”

            Regina finishes slicing the vegetables then, dumping them all into the salad and picking up the large bowl with both hands.

            “Em – Mal. Would you get the door for me?”

            Emma jumps up from her place and tries to ignore Regina’s slip-up. She rushes over to the kitchen door and opens it for Regina, who walks through with the salad, followed by Cora carrying the spaghetti. Emma grabs the basket of garlic bread before following the women to the dining room.

            They place the food on the already-set table, and Regina goes into the living room to call the rest of the family to dinner while Cora disappears into the kitchen and returns with a pitcher of water.

            The meal is pleasant as the Mills family recounts old times and discusses various people they know. Emma listens contentedly, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by people who’ve been around each other for a long time and laughing at the stories they share. The rich, fulfilling meal helps a bit, too.

            “This is delicious, Cora.”

            “Oh, thank you,” Cora says, waving a hand as if it’s nothing.

            “You know, she makes the sauce herself,” Henry supplies, smiling at his wife.

            “She does?” Emma asks, eyes widening. “It’s amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

            Cora smiles, flattered by the blonde’s comments. “Well, thank you, dear.”

            Regina finds herself smiling at Emma. Despite her proclivity for spilling coffee, the blonde actually seems to be handling herself well, smoothly earning brownie points by complimenting Cora and responding appropriately during the dinner conversation. Her earlier blunders are completely forgotten as the blonde perfectly inserts herself into the family, and Regina begins to think maybe she _did_ make the right choice after all.


	4. December 23-24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Two chapter update! :D  
> Also, just want to let you guys know that the total word count for this fic stands at about 65K, and will probably be even higher by the time I get done.  
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you stick through until the end! :)

Friday, December 23, 2016, 7:32pm

            After dinner, everyone (except for the children and Zelena) helps clean up and wash dishes. Then, Cora invites the kids into the kitchen to bake cookies, and Zelena follows to watch and take pictures, leaving Emma, Regina, Henry, and Walsh to chat in the living room. Emma’s relived to be away from Cora – pretending around Henry and Walsh, who have been a lot friendlier to her than Cora, is a lot easier than pretending with her in the room.

            “So, Mal,” Walsh begins as they settle into the couch. He flips on the TV and switches through the channels. “Do you like sports?”

            Emma shrugs. “I like the Patriots and the Red Sox like any good Bostonian.”

            As Walsh settles on a football game, he smirks, “Well, Regina, looks like she’s a keeper.”

            In response, Regina rolls her eyes. “Yes, because the ultimate judge of character is through which sports team a person cheers for.”

            “Exactly,” Walsh quips, ignoring the brunette’s blatant use of sarcasm. “We can’t have a Colts fan walking around here.”

            “Ugh, I hate the Colts,” Emma groans, before she can help herself.

            “Dirty, stinkin’ cheaters. Hey, Mal, are you scared to catch the flu?”

            Confused, Emma narrows her eyebrows. “Maybe?”

            Chuckling, Walsh replies, “Just hang out in the Colts end zone, they don't catch ­anything there!”

            The two football fans laugh at his joke, whereas Regina just shakes her head at them.

            “I’m glad you two are getting along well,” she mutters. Apt for something to do besides sports, she turns to her father. “Daddy, do you want to play some chess?”

            Henry smiles as he replies, “Sure, sweetheart. Do you mind getting the chessboard?”

            “I’ve got it.” Regina rises from her seat, content to leave the sports fanatics to their conversation while she digs out the chessboard from the hall closet. She brings it back to the living room and sets it up on the coffee table, seating herself next to Emma on the couch. Henry swipes two pawns – a black one and a white one – and mixes them up behind his back before presenting two closed fists to Regina. As she pulls more pieces out of the box, she points at one of them and it opens to reveal a black pawn. She’ll be using the black pieces for the night.

            As they set up the chessboard, Emma and Walsh continue to jabber on about sports, with Henry chiming in occasionally. Regina ignores them all, having never enjoyed sports at any point in her life.

            She loses the first game they play. Midway through their second game, Regina’s moving a bishop across the board when Emma interrupts her with a, “Don’t do _that_.”

            Raising an eyebrow at the woman beside her, she moves her piece back to its original space. “And why ever not?”

            Emma sighs dramatically and gestures to the board. “It’s practically suicide. You’re leaving yourself wide open.”

            Brown eyes immediately scan the board for evidence of Emma’s statement, but she covers up her uncertainty with a dismissive, “I know how to play chess, dear.”

            She moves her bishop as originally intended, aiming to put the conversation to rest.

            That plan backfires when, moments later, Henry steals that bishop and amusedly announces, “Check.”

            Eyes widening, Regina scans the board once again, wondering how she’d missed what is now an obvious countermove.

            “You know how to play chess, do you?” Emma snarks.

            “Don’t act so smug, dear. It doesn’t suit you.”

            Emma tries to ignore the way Regina calling her _dear_ makes her heart kind of warm, and instead bites back, “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

            In response, Regina moves one of her knights, setting it down on the board with a pointed, “No.”

            When Henry sets her up with another, “Check,” Emma smirks.

            When Regina, a few moves later, tries to move her knight again, Emma warns, “Don’t do that.”

            Regina grumbles, does it anyway, and pays for it when Henry swoops in for a final, “Checkmate.”

            Emma grins as Regina lets out a frustrated sigh.

            “I told you not to do that.”

            An eyebrow raises in challenge. “If you’re so good at chess, why don’t _you_ play?”

            Immediately, Emma feels slightly guilty for prodding Regina so much. “No, this is you and your dad’s thing. I don’t wanna mess with that.”

            “No, I insist. Let’s see _you_ beat my father.”

            Emma glances across the table at Henry, who only smiles at their bickering. “I’d love to play against you, Mal.”

            At both Mills’ insistence, Emma switches places with Regina so that she’s sitting across from Henry, and the two start to play.

            “How long have you been playing chess?”

            “Since a kid in one of my f-” Emma catches herself before she utters _foster homes_ and instead amends her statement with, “ _classes_ taught me how to play.”

            It happened in one of the good homes. A couple of the older kids shared a timeworn chessboard set and played it often. Emma liked to watch the games, even though she never really knew what was going on. Eventually, one of the kids taught her how to play. They played until she was able to beat him. Then, she started playing the other kid and beat her as well. By the time she moved to a new home, she’d gotten pretty good at the game.

            She hasn’t played for several years, but she’s just as good as she’s always been; however, she’s no match for Henry who, after a long game of back-and-forth play, beats her fair and square.

            “Good game,” Emma says.

            “Would you like to play another?”

            Emma glances at Regina, who assents with a nod, and agrees to a second game.

            This time, Emma and Regina work together, with Emma doing most of the strategizing and Regina keeping an eye out for potentially dangerous moves. By the end of the game, the women excitedly declare, “Checkmate!” in unison, to Henry’s amusement.

            “You’ve got me. Good game.”

            He leans over the table to shake Emma’s hand, and the blonde complies.

            “It’s been ages since I’ve beaten my father,” Regina comments.

            “But you’ve done it,” Henry supplies.

            Regina looks at Emma as she recounts, “Daddy and I used to play all the time. When I was learning to play, I always lost, but eventually I was able to beat him a time or two. Mother, however, is a different story.”

            “Your Mother always wins when we play,” Henry adds, not seeming upset by this predicament.

            Regina rolls her eyes at Emma. “I stopped playing her because I realized I’d never beat her. She’s like the Queen of Chess.”

            “And you all know it,” Cora brags, entering the room with a tray of hot cookies, Zelena and kids in tow. Setting it down next to the chessboard, she declares, “Fresh from the oven.”

            Excitedly, Emma swipes a cookie and puts it in her mouth, nearly burning her tongue on the chocolate chips. Everyone else takes careful bites of their cookies and compliments Hunter and Kelly on a job well done.

            After another cookie each, the kids are sent to bed. The adults hang out in the living room for a while longer, Emma and Regina teaming up for another game with Henry.

            When they finally retreat to Regina’s old bedroom, Emma pulls out the bag of rice and checks on her phone.

            “Still dead,” she announces, unsure that Regina even cares.

            Confirming Emma’s hunch, Regina doesn’t reply, instead moving to her luggage and rifling through it for a pair of silk pajamas.

            Once Regina’s left the room to change, Emma takes off her shirt and jeans, leaving herself only in a bra and boxers. She grabs an old T-shirt and throws it on before extracting her toothbrush and toothpaste. When Regina gets back, Emma takes her turn in the bathroom.

            “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the air mattress?” Regina asks before they climb into bed.

            “No, no, it’s fine. We’re both adults, here. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

            “Charming,” Regina quips before peeling back the covers and slipping into the sheets. Emma does the same, sighing as she relaxes against the soft mattress.

            For several minutes, they lie awake, staring at the ceiling and trying in vain to fall asleep. Emma watches the clock and listens to Regina’s breathing. After fifteen minutes go by and Emma still hasn’t fallen asleep, she turns her head the slightest bit to look at Regina. Facing the ceiling, Regina lies still with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, keeping the blanket in place over her body.

            She’s actually quite pretty when she’s not bitching at Emma or arguing with her mom. Right now, in the glow of the icicle lights outside the window, Regina’s olive skin shines in the darkness. Her full lips sit in a slight pout as the brunette edges closer to sleep, and her brown hair seeming almost black as it fans out over her pillow. Her eyelashes flutter, and Emma’s captivated by how peaceful the woman looks, when –

            “Go to sleep, Miss Swan.”

            Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Emma rolls onto her other side, away from Regina, and mumbles, “Good night.”

 

Saturday, December 24, 2016 – Morning

            When Regina wakes up the next morning, the other side of the bed is empty. She checks the time and realizes her biological clock has woken her up at 6:47 – almost exactly when she wakes on weekdays. She groans at her luck – she’d been hoping to catch a few extra hours of sleep over the weekend – and wonders absently where Emma has disappeared to. Maybe she’s gone to take a shower, since she didn’t take one last night.

            Regina sits up in bed and checks her phone – no messages from Mal, as expected, but one from Ursula that reads:

**12/24/16 1:46am: How’s your family thing? Everything going okay?**

            Narrowing her eyes and wondering what Ursula was doing at nearly two in the morning, Regina replies:

_12/24/16 6:48am: So far so good. What are you up to?_

            She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and goes over her plans for today.

            Tonight, her mother would throw a huge Christmas Eve party at the mansion, meaning she’d have to show Emma – “Mal” – around to her so-called “friends” in Storybrooke. Today, though, the only tasks on the schedule will be whatever Mother needs to prepare for the party.

            Regina finally pulls herself out of bed and pads through the house. The bathroom door hangs open, revealing the dark, empty room. Emma’s not taking a shower. _She couldn’t have gone far_ , Regina muses. The house is only so big, it’s too cold for a jog, and Regina assumes Emma doesn’t know Storybrooke well enough to venture outside for anything else. As Regina ponders this, she notices the sound of muffled grunts. Following the noise, she stops outside the exercise room, where the door hangs open to reveal Emma doing pull-ups from the bar connected to the left wall.

            Emma’s arm muscles flex as she pulls her body up to meet the bar with her chest. As she pulls herself up, she lets out a little puff of air and a soft grunt, which is the sound Regina had heard from the hallway. Regina’s eyes draw to Emma’s biceps, watching the muscles clench with each rep, and Emma’s face, where her eyebrows are drawn tightly together in concentration and beads of sweat glisten against her forehead.

            Emma finishes her set and drops down from the bar, panting. When she lifts her head, she notices Regina for the first time and her eyes widen in surprise. It’s then that Regina notices the thin cords hanging from the girl’s ears – she’d been listening to music and hadn’t heard her enter.

            Yanking on a cord to dislodge a bud from her ear, Emma stammers, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to use this stuff…”

            “Oh, it’s fine. To be honest, I don’t think anyone’s used any of it besides the elliptical.” Emma turns her head to glance at the machine.

            “You sure it’s no problem?”

            “Emma, you’re supposed to be my _girlfriend_. What’s mine – or I guess my parents’ – is yours. You’re more than welcome to use it.”

            “Okay, thanks.” Emma offers a sheepish smile, and Regina finds her eyes roaming over Emma’s arm muscles, down her sweat-drenched body, past a black sports bra, landing on toned abs…

            She collects herself and brings her eyes back to Emma’s. “Breakfast and coffee are downstairs whenever you’re finished.” With a nod, Regina leaves Emma to her workout and heads to the kitchen.

            There, she finds her father leaning over the stove, still wearing a pair of flannel pajamas. He looks up at her arrival and smiles.

            “I see you’re up early. How’s my princess this morning?”

            “I’m well, Daddy.” She crosses the floor to kiss his forehead before scanning the room for the coffeepot.

            “Coffee’s already brewed,” Henry supplies, indicating a machine on the counter in the corner. “Where’s Mal this morning?”

            She blinks, and it takes her a moment to remember that he’s asking about _Emma_ , not Mal.

            “She’s working out in the exercise room.” Moving towards the coffee machine, she inspects it thoroughly. It’s a fancy one, with the left half specialized for single mugs and housing a slot for individual K-cups, while the right half functions to brew a whole pot. A full one currently sits beneath the spout. “When did you guys get a Keurig?”

            Henry glances at the machine before returning to his cooking. “A week or so ago. It was your mother’s idea. A Christmas gift to ourselves.”

            Regina huffs at her parents’ insistence. She’d predicted this would happen. Luckily, she and Zelena had opted to get their parents a new set of cookware instead of the exact coffee machine she’s now staring at.

            “It’s nice,” she comments, pulling out a mug and pouring herself a cup of the brew. She takes a sip and admires the roast before moving to the fridge for some orange juice.

            Regina brings her coffee and juice to one of the seats at the island. Just before she turns to grab a piece of fruit, a plate slides across the marble and the scent of a small omelet wafts up to her nose.

            “Daddy, I told you…”

            “I know, you don’t eat much in the mornings. Just taste it. I made it just for you.”

            Regina catches his playful smirk, knowing there’ll be red pepper in it, just as she likes it.

            “Thank you, Daddy.” She sits on the stool and cuts her omelet with the side of her fork.

            He turns back to the stove, starting another omelet, before casting a glance over his shoulder. “So, this girl, Mal…”

            “Daddy…” Regina protests, hating the way her voice sounds like a whine.

            He smirks with understanding, though persists just the same. “My dear, you know I have to ask.”

            Regina smiles. Though her mother often asks more invasive questions, her father has always been the more protective one. She knows he has to ask for himself. With a nod of her head, she grants him permission to continue.

            “This Mal,” he says, turning to face her fully now. “She treats you right? She makes you happy?”

            Rolling her eyes at his insistence, she replies, “I’ve been dating her for eight months.”

            He gives her a pointed look.

            Exasperated, Regina sighs, a pang a guilt passing through her as she lies. “ _Yes_ , Daddy. She makes me happy.”

            Assuming the questioning had ended, she drinks more of her orange juice.

            “Do you love her?”

            She chokes on her drink, allowing the bright liquid to fall out of her mouth and right back into her glass. She coughs a few times until she’s able to breathe again and reaches for a napkin.

            “What?”

            He smiles at her flustering, obviously amused, as he repeats, “Do you _love_ her?”

            Regina flushes, thinking about the woman upstairs whom she certainly _doesn’t_ love and the woman she’d last seen a week ago whom she’d _certainly_ loved _then_. She’d loved her so much. But now?

            “Yes, I love her,” she finally replies, feeling guilty at the lie and hoping her father’s questioning would come to an end.

            “Good.” He smiles before turning around again.

            Just then, two pairs of tiny feet patter rapidly into the kitchen. “Good moooorning, Auntie Regina!” Hunter singsongs.

            “Good morning, Hunter. Good morning, Kelly.”

            “Time to play!” Kelly exclaims, tugging on the edge of her robe.

            “Why don’t you let me finish my breakfast first? Did you two eat?”

            Both nod their head excitedly. “Grandpa made us omelets,” Hunter informs. Henry grins proudly from the stove.

            “Would either of you like another one?” he offers.

            “Nope, I’m full!” Hunter says, spreading his arms into airplane wings and zooming out of the room.

            Giggling, Kelly adds, “I’m full, too,” and mimics Hunter as she follows him out.

            Regina smiles to herself as she eats more of her omelet. She and her father enjoy the comfortable silence between them for several minutes.

            Suddenly, there are more footsteps, and then Emma’s entering the kitchen. Regina feels blood rush to her cheeks as she takes in the blonde, who currently wears a white T-shirt and a pair of tight skinny jeans while her hair, still wet from the shower, hangs limply down her back.

            “Good morning,” she greets, smiling at Henry.

            “Good morning, Mal,” Henry replies, instantly starting an omelet for the blonde.

            She turns her attention to Regina, and the brunette realizes she has yet to greet her supposed girlfriend. “Good morning, dear. How was your workout?”

            Emma smirks at her, and Regina wonders if she’d been caught staring. “Good. What do you think?” Pushing back her sleeves, Emma flexes her arm muscles, and dark chocolate eyes follow the lines in her skin as they tighten, the slight bulge in her firm bicep as it rises slightly.

            Regina swallows. Now she’s _sure_ she’s been caught staring, and that Emma’s trying to mess with her.

            “You have… very nice biceps, dear.”

            “Yes, quite impressive.” Regina glances at her father, almost surprised; she’d forgotten he was still in the room. Her face flushes as Emma tugs her sleeves back down, and Henry offers the blonde an amused smile.

            “Do you mind if I…?” Emma points to the refrigerator, and Henry nods.

            “Go right ahead.”

            “Thanks.”

            Emma pulls out the container of milk, and Regina gets up from her stool to fetch a glass for her.

            “I started an omelet for you,” Henry informs, and Emma’s eyes light up at the prospect.

            “Oh, thank you! It smells delicious.”

            Emma climbs onto the stool next to Regina and sips her milk. Within minutes, Henry slides an omelet in front of her and she digs in greedily.

            “Dish ish grea’,” Emma compliments through a mouthful of egg and cheese.

            “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Regina admonishes, and it’s probably the kindest criticism Emma’s received thus far. In response, Emma nudges her with her elbow.

            Swallowing her food, Emma repeats, “This is great, thank you.”

            Henry chuckles at the exchange. “You’re welcome.”

            Regina’s two-thirds of the way through her omelet and Emma’s half finished with hers when Cora comes rushing in.

            “Oh, excellent, you both are here. Regina, I’d like you to dust in the dining room, the living room, and the foyer. Mal, if you don’t mind, could you clean all the windows on the main floor? Regina can show you where the cleaning supplies are. I’d like this house in perfect condition for the party tonight.”

            Emma nods, this time making sure to swallow before replying, “Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

            Cora clasps her hands together and smiles, “Great. And when you’re done, I’d appreciate both of your help in the kitchen.”

            Regina and Emma accept their orders and Cora disappears into another section of the house.

            Offering an apologetic look to Emma, Regina says, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

            “No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

            “Thank you.”

            Once finished with their lunch, they help Henry clean up the breakfast dishes before Regina shows Emma where the cleaning supplies are and goes upstairs to change into more suitable clothing.

            First, Emma cleans the windows in the kitchen, since Cora’s supposed to cook in there for most of the day. She’s wiping at the last window in the room when she hears it – the festive notes of a saxophone playing, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” drifting through the house. Someone turned on the radio or put in a CD. Humming along with the popular tune, Emma finishes the last window and moves into the dining room. She stops in her tracks when she finds Regina leaning with her back against the wall between the living room and the dining room. She looks like she’s been there for at least a few minutes.

            “Hey, what are you d-”

            “Shh!” Regina shushes her and crosses the room to meet her.

            At Emma’s confused look, Regina inclines her head at the archway to the living room. It’s then that Emma realizes the music isn’t coming from a recording. Someone’s actually _playing_ the saxophone.

            Regina explains, “Daddy likes to play his saxophone almost every day. I don’t want to disturb him, so I listen here.”

            The song ends, and suddenly they hear the sound of little feet running and little hands clapping furiously as Zelena’s kids bound down the steps and burst into the living room.

            “What are you doing, Grandpa?” Hunter asks.

            Henry softly answers back, his voice gentle and kind, but Emma can’t make out his words.

            “Play Rudolph!” Kelly exclaims.

            They hear Henry’s voice again, followed by the rustling and shuffling of papers, and then the intro to “Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer” plays through the house.

            Emma and Regina smile at each other when the kids’ tinny, high-pitched singing joins the saxophone. When Hunter adds the extra parts in – “and if you ever saw it, _saw it_ , you would even say it glows, _like a_ _flashlight_!” – the women giggle a little bit.

            Hunter shouts out the little bits until the song ends, with a final exclamation of, “like George Washington!” The children cheer and clap for their grandfather, who speaks again, softly. Emma waits for another request, another song, when suddenly thundering footsteps sound until both kids burst into the dining room.

            “Auntie Regina! Mal! Grandpa says to stop listening over here and come join us in there!” Then, Hunter grabs both women’s hands and tugs them along behind him, while Kelly sprints ahead.

            “No running in the house!” Regina admonishes, though she doesn’t put much force behind it.

            When they reach the living room, they see Henry wearing a red polo shirt and khaki pants with a saxophone hanging from his neck strap. He smiles warmly at them.

            “No need to hide. Come in here and listen with the kids,” he greets.

            “How did you know we were listening?” Regina asks, clearly confused.

            In response, he shakes his head slightly, as if it were obvious. “You always listen over there when I play.” He turns to the children, who’ve dropped the women’s hands in favor of gazing expectantly at the instrument. “What should I play now?”

            “Jingle Bells!” Kelly exclaims, jumping up and down. Henry smiles, not even rifling through his papers this time, before starting the song.

            Immediately, the kids fall into song, singing the lyrics and dancing wildly through the room. Regina and Emma take a seat on the couch, singing along with them and watching them dance.

            Emma studies the shiny instrument, admiring its flawless body and wondering if it’s new or simply well-cared for. Given how Regina speaks about her father, Emma wouldn’t be surprised if Henry had kept it in this condition for many years. She watches his fingers fly, trying to see if she remembers the notes. Jingle Bells is an easy song to play – without touching her sax since high school (a dingy, borrowed instrument), if she doesn’t remember how to play Jingle Bells, there’s no way she’ll ever be able to play again.

            Suddenly, Kelly tugs on Regina’s hand, a nonverbal request for her to get up and dance with them. Regina’s eyes light up and she stands to join the kids in the middle of the room. Emma watches them with amusement, smiling as Regina spins and shakes her arms and divides her attention equally between her niece and nephew.

            Henry doesn’t stop between songs this time – he bounds into “Holly, Jolly Christmas” with barely a pause, and the dancing and singing picks right back up again.

            Regina isn’t a bad singer. She carries the notes well, never off-tune. Emma wonders if she’s ever sung before – by herself, not with a chorus of others to hide her own sound – and if she enjoys it. From the way she’s smiling and dancing, Emma thinks maybe she _does_ like it, but she could also be smiling at the children and their antics.

            Emma closes her eyes and opens them, trying to snap herself out of whatever trance she had just been in. Why does she care if Regina likes to sing? She’s not here to spend time with Regina; she’s here to make some extra money.

            As she watches the kids dance and sing, she catches some movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing at the archway between the dining room and the living room, she spots two heads – one with thick, vibrant red hair and the other attached to a long, lean frame – poking around to watch. Zelena catches her eye, offers a smile, and lifts a finger to her lips, as if to say, “Don’t let them know we’re here.”

            It’s too late, though, because Kelly spots her mother in an instant and rushes over, lifting her arms to be picked up. Caught, she and Walsh enter the room and join in on the dancing and singing.

            The song changes to “Winter Wonderland,” and Zelena puts Kelly back on the ground, who runs over to dance with her father. The redhead offers a hand to Emma, and Emma takes it. The whole room feels alive with singing and dancing and Henry’s saxophone. Emma dances with Zelena, who somehow leads her over to Regina and trades off with Hunter so now Emma’s dancing and singing in front of Regina.

            The brunette smiles at her – a big, wide smile that somehow doesn’t pick up on Emma’s anxiousness and miraculously makes it disappear. Regina takes her hands and moves them back and forth with the music. Emma laughs and plays along, feeling like nothing could stop this fun moment. Until –

            “Henry!” Cora scolds from the other room. “Henry, what is all that racket? I’m hearing thumping and screeching and…” She trails off when she enters the room and sees her whole family dancing and smiling. The saxophone’s notes die off, followed by the singing.

            Then the room is silent, with all the adults waiting for whatever Cora has to say about their dance session. The only sound comes from Kelly who, unaware of the tension in the room, yells, “Gram!” and runs to her side. Cora’s glare softens as she smiles at her grandchild and picks her up.

            “Hi, sweetheart. What’s going on in here?”

            “Grandpa’s playing the saxophone!” Kelly responds. “Want to dance?”

            Cora glances up at the other adults, smiling. “We’ll have plenty of time to dance at the party tonight. Right now, we have to get ready for it. Why don’t you and your brother run upstairs and play a game?”

            “Okay!” Kelly exclaims, hopping down from Cora’s arms and racing out of the room, Hunter hot on her trail.

            Once the kids are gone, Cora’s gaze hardens. “We’ve no time to waste. Guests are going to arrive soon and the house needs to be in top condition. Henry, you and Walsh need to set up the furniture. Mal, Regina, when you’re done with the windows and the dusting, come help me in the kitchen. Zelena, you should rest.”

            “Mother, I’m not an invalid.”

            “No, you’re not, but I suspect tonight’s party will tire you out. We wouldn’t want to hurt the baby.” Cora glares at the others. “Please do as I say. Now.”

            Everyone scatters. Henry puts away his saxophone before he and Walsh start pushing couches across the room. Regina resumes her dusting, and Zelena grumbles before climbing the stairs to watch her kids. Emma leaves for the dining room and continues cleaning the windows.

            When she’s sure every window in the house is spotless, Emma makes her way back to the kitchen, as instructed. Regina’s nowhere in sight, meaning she hasn’t finished dusting yet.

            “Ah, Mal!” Cora greets as she sticks a pie into one of the ovens. “Perfect. I’d appreciate it if you’d peel and cut those potatoes in the sink for me.”

            “Sure thing.” Emma crosses to the sink, washes her hands, and picks up a potato. When she hears a squishing sound, she turns back around and drops the knife and potato in shock.

            Cora’s elbow-deep in a gigantic turkey.

            “Holy shit,” she whispers, before muttering a quick, “Sorry,” at Cora’s chiding glare. Leaning forward for a better look, she studies the sight before her with fascination.

            The turkey is huge – almost as big as Kelly – and the biggest she’s ever seen in her life. Emma supposes it’s a good thing, since the Mills’ are planning to feed so many people, but in all her years of Thanksgiving and Christmas, she’s never seen an uncooked animal that _large_ , even in the window of the butcher’s shop.

            “Is that a real turkey?” Emma marvels. It’s a stupid question – of course Cora’s not sticking her arm down some _fake_ turkey – but that’s the only question that comes to her mind as she stares at the massive animal.

            “Of course it’s real,” Cora says with a smile, stuffing her arm further inside the pig. “You can’t cook a fake turkey, dear.”

            Emma’s mouth drops as Cora pulls out her arm, bits of stuffing stuck to her fingers and shiny with juices from the turkey. “It’s huge.”

            “The local butcher saves the biggest one for us, since we’re feeding such a large amount of people and we tip him quite generously.” Cora grabs another handful of stuffing and sticks her arm back up the turkey before pausing and shooting Emma a look of sudden realization. “I do apologize. I probably should have warned you that I was going to be stuffing the turkey behind you. Don’t worry, we have plenty of other foods for you to eat.”

            Emma narrows her eyes. “Other foods?”

            Cora nods, a look of slight confusion passing over her face. “Yes. Regina said you were a vegetarian, and while there’s no way we can give up our traditional main dish, I’m happy to accommodate for you.”

            “Vegetarian…” Emma mutters. She thinks back to the night before, remembering the spaghetti and salad served without meatballs or chicken, and quickly realizes that­ Regina had forgotten to mention such an important detail to her.

 _No meat for an entire weekend? Over Christmas dinner? I’m going to kill her_ , Emma thinks as she insists a little louder, “Right. I’m a vegetarian.”

            “Like I said,” Cora continues, oblivious to Emma’s confusion. “There will still be plenty for you to eat. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

            Emma looked down at her hands, relieved to find her skin intact despite dropping the knife. “Um… thanks,” she said, picking up the knife and potato and rinsing them off.

            “I just love Christmas turkey,” Cora goes on. Emma decides not to comment and lets Cora talk. “But it takes a lot of preparation. A lot of _planning ahead_. You have to buy the turkey in advance or the good ones will be gone. You have to rub the seasoning into it and let it marinate. Then you have to let it cook, which takes several _hours_. You can’t just buy the turkey and expect to eat it then. If you want a good meal, you have to put work into it. You have to _plan_ for it.”

            When Cora pauses for longer than a few seconds, Emma suspects she’s waiting for a reply and says, “Right. Yeah.”

            “So I have to ask _you_ , Mal. What are your plans with my daughter?”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Your plans. What kind of future do you have in mind with Regina?”

            Emma blinks, shakes her head, and puts down the knife again. “Are you calling Regina a turkey?”

            “I’m saying that good things develop from well-thought-out plans. Including delicious Christmas Eve dinners and dedicated relationships. So I’ll ask you again. What do you see in your future with Regina?”

            Stuttering, Emma licks her lips and turns to face Cora. “You know, we’ve only been dating for six months…”

            “Eight.”

            “What?”

            “Regina said eight months.”

            Dammit. _Good job, Emma._ She’s sure she’s ruined it then, ruined the whole plan, but tries to play off her slip-up.

            “Right. So you understand we haven’t been dating for very long and –”

            Cora interrupts her without a second thought, and Emma stops herself from sighing in relief at not being caught. “Yes, but you should always have a plan in mind. You’re not going to be 28 forever. And Regina’s already in her thirties. If you two want to settle down and have children –”

            “Woah, woah, woah. Who said anything about children?”

            “Well, you certainly can’t be in a relationship at your age without considering your future.”

            “Right, but –”

            “But you understand that as Regina’s mother, I have her best interests at heart, and part of that is ensuring that her life partner, whoever it shall be, also has _her_ best interests at heart.”

            “Yes, yes, I agree,” Emma stutters. “I… I mean I do.”

            “Good.” At this point, Cora’s leaning over her, invading her personal space, breathing in the same air as her. Emma grimaces at the arm that had been inside the turkey, still glistening in the kitchen light, remembering how Cora held no restraint in shoving it up the turkey, even in front of a supposed vegetarian. “Because if you hurt her. If you break her. I will find you. And I will make your life a living hell. Are we clear?”

            Emma barely has time to squeak out a, “Yes, ma’am,” before Regina’s barreling into the room, announcing her presence with a, “Mother, I’m finished,” and thankfully drawing Cora away from Emma’s space.

            Cora backs up a few steps and returns to the stove, saying, “Excellent, dear. We were just talking about you.”

            Regina glances between Cora and Emma, suddenly registering how close they had been standing when she’d come in and the uneasy expression on Emma’s face.

            “Am I interrupting something?”

            “No,” the women answer at once.

            Regina surveys Emma’s position, backed up against the counter, and the uneasy expression on her face. A glimmer of – concern? empathy? – passes over Regina’s features. “Em –,” the brunette clears her throat to cover the slip-up. “Mal. Are you okay?”

            Emma nods her head and brushes it off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

            Regina raises an eyebrow, dark eyes flitting between the blonde and her mother, suspecting something more than what either woman let on.

            Emma searches for a distraction – after all, it’s not like Cora’s threat was any different from an overprotective father threatening to wait on the front porch with a shotgun – and her eyes fall to the uncooked ham and turkey on the counter.

            “Your mom was just telling me about the _vegetarian_ options I’ll have tonight.” Remembering her irritation, she places extra emphasis on the word _vegetarian_ , hoping Regina will catch on to the passive aggressive statement.

            She does. Confusion clouds Regina’s features. Not quite understanding what Emma’s problem is, Regina replies, “Right.” She turns her attention to her mother. “What do you need us to do in here?”

            Cora immediately delves into the kitchen proceedings, instructing Emma to continue peeling potatoes as Regina helps Cora prepare the meat.

            After a few hours of helping in the kitchen – interrupted by Zelena begging to help and being dismissed at Cora’s insistence that the pregnant woman go upstairs and rest – Cora finally dismisses them. The two escape upstairs to change into their party wear.

            Once they’re out of earshot, Emma yell-whispers, “ _Vegetarian?_ ”

            The brunette rolls her eyes. “I told you that Mal was a vegetarian. Plus, it was in the packet which you so _conveniently_ destroyed.”

            “Um, I think I’d remember you telling me that I can’t eat meat for an _entire weekend_.”

            Regina cocks her head and responds sarcastically, “Oh, I’m _sorry_. I didn’t realize that avoiding a certain food group would be especially _difficult_ for you.”

            “You could have at least _warned_ me.”

            “I did, in the packet, on the way here. And even if I hadn’t, you agreed to pretend to be Mal, which includes pretending to be a vegetarian for a weekend.”

            “And miss out on one of the best parts of Christmas dinner?”

            “Well, I can’t just go tell mother you’re not a vegetarian anymore. She’d say you’re flaky and have no resolve, which means you must have commitment issues and therefore are unsuitable to be my life partner. And then the whole operation would be blown because I didn’t choose someone good enough for her.”

            Emma’s stomach turns at the phrase “good enough,” because certainly Regina can choose her own partner and doesn’t have to listen to Cora. Unfortunately, as Emma’s gotten to know Cora, she understands how difficult a conversation with her can be.

            So she allows herself to get sucked into a weekend of forged vegetarianism. “Fine. I’ll play vegetarian. Only because you’re paying me.”

            “Thank you.”


	5. December 24, 2016 – 5:43pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! Just a quick reminder that I uploaded two chapters today, and that this is the second. Make sure you read the previous chapter before this one!

Saturday, December 24, 2016 – 5:43pm

            They reach Regina’s bedroom and close the door. Emma pulls out her duffel and digs through it for the outfit she brought for the night. When she rights herself again, she finds herself staring at Regina, who holds the dress she’d hung in the closet and stares right back. A moment of awkward silence passes as they stand across from each other, each holding their chosen clothes in preparation for changing.

            “Um…”

            “I’ll change in the bathroom,” Regina volunteers. “Just leave the door open when you’re done changing.”

            “Okay,” Emma replies, watching the brunette disappear down the hall.

            She crosses the room to close the door and heads back to the bed to change before she realizes she’s alone in a stranger’s old bedroom. _Regina’s_ old bedroom. She glances around at the unfamiliar furniture – dark wood nightstand and desk, beige carpet, dark red comforter – and the other decorations hanging around the room. A framed photo of a horse hangs on one wall next to what looks like one of Regina’s senior photos. The younger brunette smiles at the camera, perched strictly on the staircase they had climbed to get to this room. Her hair, longer and wavier, flows down her back, and she’s wearing a white button up and a grey pencil skirt. As she studies the picture, Emma wonders who hung it up there, and quickly concludes that Cora had to have put it there.

            Realizing she’s kind of snooping (or kind of not, since the picture is hanging out in the open), Emma backs away from the photo. The whole room feels quite eerie. Someone – Regina – used to live here, but now she doesn’t, and the non-usage of the space makes the room feel a bit off.

            A knock at the door startles Emma from her trance, and Emma’s supposed to be dressed, not awkwardly standing in the middle of Regina’s bedroom, staring at all of her pictures.

            Frantically, Emma calls, “One minute!” while throwing her shirt over her head.

            Unfortunately, the fabric must have muffled her voice, because suddenly the door is opening and there’s Regina staring open-mouthed at Emma, who’s wearing only her jeans and a bra (just a plain white one, not something lacy or scandalous).

            Emma freezes, caught in the act and unsure how to proceed. A moment passes where neither woman speaks, and it’s Regina looking at Emma’s exposed body and Emma feeling slightly uncomfortable but also not unhappy with the expression on Regina’s face.

            And then Emma realizes what Regina’s wearing and it’s a long-sleeved scarlet dress that fits all of the brunette’s curves, and even though Emma’s the real one exposed and Regina’s staring at her, Emma forgets to be embarrassed as she stares right back. Finally, a slight blush forms on the brunette’s cheeks, and quickly, Regina closes the door again to give the blonde her privacy.

            Hurriedly, Emma pulls her white turtleneck sweater over her head, strips her jeans, and pulls on a pair of black dress pants.

            “Come in,” she calls.

            Regina opens the door again and seems relieved to find Emma dressed again.

            “Sorry.”

            “No, it’s fine,” Emma insists.

            Regina crosses to her vanity, puts on earrings and a necklace, and starts applying her makeup. Emma digs through her bag for a pair of earrings before bringing a brush to her hair.

            “So…” Emma begins, trying to fill the silence. “When you say the whole town usually comes…”

            “…it’s the whole town. Unless you’re on my mother’s bad side. Although she tends to invite people she dislikes nonetheless. Speaking of which, please try to stay away from Mary and David Nolan.”

            “Who?”

            “Innocent, lovey-dovey-looking couple,” she clarifies with a hint of venom in her voice. “I think Mother said they have a baby now.”

            “Why should I stay away from…?”

            “Let’s just say they’re not as innocent as they look.” This seems to be where Regina intends to leave the conversation, so Emma switches to doing her makeup using the full length mirror on the back of the door.

            The women quietly continue prepping themselves, Emma trying not to stare at Regina as she applies her makeup and Regina pretending she isn’t watching Emma in the reflection of her mirror.

            When the women are ready to head down, they pause for a moment, taking in each other’s features. Emma’s added eyeliner and a soft pink lipstick, her curls framing her face just right. Regina’s hair has been perfectly coiffed, and her makeup done impeccably. She blinks at Emma through stunning eye makeup, and Emma’s eyes are drawn to her lips, done up with a dark shade of red lipstick.

            Then, Regina heads out of the bedroom to the top of the staircase, and Emma follows. There, Emma marvels at the sight before her with child-like awe.

            The lights have been dimmed low, and in their place, the red, green, and white candles throughout the house combined with a few dim lamps provide a soft, consistent light. An elaborate garland wraps around the railing of the staircase, made lavish with glittery, gold ribbon and red orbs. Various warm, enticing scents fill their noses, indicating that the food has been laid out on the table in the living room. In the background, Emma hears the strains of a Christmas carol, faintly remembering that Regina’s mother had hired an actual DJ to play Christmas music. Again, Emma wonders why that would be necessary – it would be much simpler to arrange an iTunes playlist or choose one from Pandora – but apparently Cora needs every last detail of the party to be perfect.

            As she enters the living room now, Emma can see why Cora’s so anal about ensuring everything is flawless. Someone’s plugged in the tree, and now the lights twinkle in the soft illumination of the living room, making the tinsel glimmer with their reflection. Next to the tree, a fire crackles in the fireplace, the orange and yellow flames licking at the dark logs below them. Along the wall, dark burgundy tablecloths adorn the long buffet tables, where the food waits tantalizingly in pristine silver dishes. The couches have been moved into a new arrangement towards the back of the room, allowing for more standing room while providing the same number of seats. To the right of the room, a few small speakers and a laptop sit on a small table, a beautiful woman with auburn hair behind it. Emma assumes this is the DJ and smiles politely at her.

            All of the decorations flow from one to the next, accentuating each part of the house seamlessly. They’re extravagant, just short of ostentatious, but come together to create a picture-perfect Christmas atmosphere.

            Cora approaches them, still in her casual clothes. “I’m just going to freshen up, change my clothes, and I’ll be back down. Would you girls mind greeting the guests and showing them where to put their coats?”

            She doesn’t wait for an answer before dashing out of the room, up the stairs, and out of sight.

            Just then, Kelly and Hunter race out of the study and collide into Regina.

            “Is it time yet?”

            “Can we start the party?”

            Regina smiles at them, stroking their hair softly so as to not mess up their carefully constructed hairdos. Kelly’s red hair has been curled and tied with a white ribbon, while Hunter’s brown mop has been slicked back with hair mousse.

            “Almost,” Regina says. “You two look very nice.”

            Kelly beams, smoothing the red skirt of her brand new Christmas dress. Hunter doesn’t seem to care much for the comment, but nonetheless looks smart in his khakis, green button-up, and black sweater vest.

            “Thanks,” they reply, Kelly’s response more enthusiastic than Hunter’s.

            Just then, the doorbell rings. The first guest has arrived.

            “I’ll get it!” Hunter declares, sprinting for the door before either Regina or Emma can stop him.

            He yanks open the door and smiles up at the visitor, a harmless-looking man wearing a thick, winter coat.

            Hunter’s smile deflates when he doesn’t instantly recognize the man. “Uh… hi.”

            “Hi, Hunter,” the man greets warmly, squatting slightly to get closer to him.

            “Do you remember me? I’m Archie. You like to play with my dog, Pongo, sometimes.”

            Furrowing his brow adorably, Hunter doesn’t try to hide his confusion. By now, Regina has reached the pair at the doorway.

            “Good evening, Archie.”

            “Regina, it’s great to see you.” The balding man smiles as Regina stands aside to let him into the house. Hunter shuts the door behind them and tugs Kelly off to the living room. Archie unravels his scarf and takes off his coat to reveal a nice tweed suit jacket.

            Emma offers her arm for the coat, and Archie hands it to her as he says, “Thank you.” He adjusts his glasses as he adds, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Archie. I run Storybrooke’s psychiatry office.”

            “Oh, okay. Nice to meet you. I’m Em- I mean, I’m Mal.” The man’s kind and unassuming nature almost makes her forget that she’s supposed to be undercover. “Regina’s girlfriend.”

            “Oh, well, that’s wonderful.”

            The funny thing about Archie, Emma finds, is that he doesn’t seem to be saying it sarcastically or awkwardly; he actually seems genuinely happy for Regina and the stranger he’s only just met. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in Storybrooke.”

            Regina cuts in. “We’re actually only planning to be here for a few days. I’m not sure she’ll get to see much of it.”

            “Oh,” Archie says. “Well, any time you’re in town, feel free to drop by and say hi. I’d love for you to meet Pongo.”

            “His dog,” Regina supplies.

            “Okay, sure.”

            Seeing more guests approach the house through the window, Regina waves him along, holding out her arm to the living room. “Drinks and music are through there. I’m sure we’ll see you again before the end of the night.”

            “Thank you.” He nods at each of them before disappearing into the living room.

            Emma and Regina continue to welcome guests to the party, with Regina holding most of the conversations while Emma takes the coats to the study.          She shakes hands and offers smiles and greets so many faces within a short span of time that she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep track of them all.

            “Don’t worry about remembering any of them,” Regina murmurs to her once, as if she can read her thoughts. “Practically the whole town will be here. I don’t expect you to remember the names of every single person here.”

            Nodding her understanding, Emma plasters on a smile as the next guest comes through – a kind looking older woman Regina introduces as the owner of the local diner. She shakes the woman’s hand, though her nervousness doesn’t cease. There’s still a _lot_ of people here, and she’s expected to play her part for all of them.

            She sighs in relief when Cora comes around again, with Henry in tow.

            “Your father and I will take over,” Cora informs, waving them away from the door. “You two go enjoy yourselves.”

            “Thank you,” Regina says as she and Emma head towards the living room and the blazing fireplace. Standing by the door for the last ten to twenty minutes left them both slightly colder and eager for warmth. For a few minutes, they say nothing as they place their hands near the flickering flames and let the heat sink back in.

            Once they’re both warmed up, Regina raises her eyebrows. “Champagne?”

            Emma shrugs. “Sure.”

            They stop by the champagne table, the thin, skinny glasses seeming to sparkle in the low light of the room. Regina passes one to Emma and takes two for herself. Emma wonders at the action – how much is Regina planning to drink tonight? – but says nothing as she takes a hesitant sip of her own glass. Pleased with the taste, she takes a longer drink, knowing that regardless of how much they decided to drink, it would be a long night for them both, and the champagne will definitely help with that.

            Turning to face the rest of the room, they scan the rest of the party-goers, Emma trying to remember some of their names and Regina seeming to search for someone specific. Suddenly, Regina starts off in a random direction, purpose in her eyes though Emma can’t identify what it is. The blonde follows her blindly across the room until Regina leads her up to a beautiful blonde woman in a cream-colored sweater-dress.

            “Kathryn,” she greets with a smile.

            The woman lights up when she recognizes Regina.

            “Regina! Hey!” Kathryn exclaims, opening her arms to the other woman.

            The two share a quick hug before Regina passes her one of the champagne glasses. _So only_ one _of them was really for herself_ , Emma realizes.

            As Kathryn takes a sip, Regina asks, “How are you?”

            “Pretty good. I went back to law school.”

            “You’re kidding.”

            Kathryn shakes her head with a smile. “Nope. Started this fall.”

            “That’s great! I’m happy for you.”

            “Thanks. How have _you_ been?”

            At this, Regina shrugs. “I can’t complain.” She glances at Emma, prompting Kathryn’s attention to her as well. Gesturing between the women, Regina continues, “Kathryn, this is my girlfriend, Mal. Mal, this is Kathryn, one of my closest friends from high school.”

            Emma smiles and holds out her hand, trying to commit the name to memory. “Nice to meet you, Kathryn.”

            The blonde smiles in kind, and shakes Emma’s hand warmly. “You too.”

            Kathryn’s nice, and Regina seems happier to chat with her than anyone else she’s met so far.

            “So, Mal, what do you do?”

            Licking her lips, Emma replies, “Um… gynecology. It’s going pretty good. You said you’re in law school?” She changes the subject quickly, hoping to avoid another conversation about a career she knows nothing about – especially one like yesterday’s had gone.

            Kathryn takes the bait willingly. “Yes, I just started. It’s always been something I’ve wanted to do, but… a few things got in the way.”

            “Oh, where do you go?”

            “Harvard.”

            Emma’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s impressive. And far.”

            “It’s not that bad,” Kathryn explains. “The workload’s insane, but I like it.”

            “That’s great!” Emma replies.

            Regina and Kathryn start up a new topic – reminiscing about their high school days and catching up on gossip (“Ashley and Sean are having another baby!” “Did you hear that Jefferson got arrested for smoking pot?”), and Emma watches Regina light up again, in a way she’s only done so far with Kelly and Hunter. She enjoys watching Regina’s eyes go wide at pieces of news or mischievous as she divulges information of her own.

            Halfway through an animated discussion about their class’s senior prank, Emma’s stomach rumbles, and Regina chuckles. “I guess it’s time to eat, isn’t it?”

            Emma smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

            The three cross to the food tables, pick up plates, and pile food onto them. Emma sighs wistfully as she passes the meat. It looks juicy and perfectly cooked, and Emma’s upset that she won’t get to taste it.

            Regina eyes Emma carefully as they pass those dishes, making sure Emma didn’t put any on her plate and feeling slightly guilty for how insensitively she’d responded to Emma’s outrage at this aspect of their agreement. It’s not like it’s _her_ fault that Emma destroyed the first packet and apparently didn’t read the second one thoroughly enough; though, as she watches Emma gaze longingly at the meat, she wonders if she’d been too harsh.

            They move through the line, Regina reminding Emma that the stuffing balls aren’t made of the stuff that’s been up the turkey, so it’s safe to eat, and pointing out other dishes Emma can have. It’s the least she can do for denying such an apparently beloved food to her.

            After they pile as much as they can on their plates, they head to the dining room, where the table they’d sat at last night has been expanded to accommodate more people. Guests sit in clumps around the table, leaving spots open for others to sit. The trio settle at the end of the table and enjoy the meal.

            Even though Emma can’t have any meat, she sighs at how delicious the other foods are. Cora – extreme though she may be – is an excellent cook, and the foods are some of the best that Emma’s ever had.

            When they finish eating, they rise from the table, but Cora stops them.

            “Regina, dear, can I borrow you for a moment? I need your help refilling some of the dishes out here.”

            Nodding her assent, Regina follows her mother into the kitchen. Kathryn heads for the bathroom, and Emma, hungry for seconds, heads back towards the food.

            A popular version of “Mary, Did You Know?” starts to play in the background as Emma helps herself to more mashed potatoes.

            “Everything here’s, delicious, isn’t it?”

            Emma glances up to find the source of the voice. A short, brunette woman with a pixie cut and a white knit sweater smiles back at her, filling her own plate with various foods from the buffet. She seems nice enough, so Emma engages her.

            “Yeah, it’s pretty good.” She grabs two more dinner rolls, and the woman chuckles. “What?”

            “You like those rolls, don’t you?”

            Emma narrows her eyes playfully. “Hey, I’m not judging you for _your_ food choices.” She glances down at the woman’s plate and makes a face at what she sees. “I didn’t know anyone actually _liked_ parsnips.”

            The other woman scoffs, pretending to be offended. “What’s Christmas dinner without parsnips?”

            “Actually good.”

            The two laugh, continuing to add food to their plates.

            “Okay, but parsnips _can’t_ be your favorite Christmas food, though.”

            “What makes you think they can’t?”

            “Are they?”

            The brunette smirks. “No.”

            Emma chuckles. “Then what’s your favorite?”

            Pointing to a pile of orange, she smiles. “I _love_ sweet potatoes. Especially _Cora’s_ sweet potatoes.”

            Making a face, Emma says, “I’m not a big fan.”

            Her eyes widen. “Seriously? You don’t like sweet potatoes? Boy, you’re picky.” The two finish loading their plates and head towards the dining room to eat. “No parsnips, no sweet potatoes… what _do_ you like?”

            Emma’s about to say, “Christmas ham,” but stops short, remembering her façade of vegetarianism. Instead, she indicates the dinner rolls on her plate.

            “I’ve never had dinner rolls better than these. Honestly, Cora’s an amazing cook.”

            As they settle down at the table, the other woman nods in agreement. “Yeah, I can’t believe she does this by herself every year.”

            “Well, Regina and Zelena help, too.”

            The woman coughs. “Yes, I’m sure they do.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes in Emma, seemingly for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. What’s your name?”

            Emma butters one of her rolls as she replies, “Mal. What’s yours?”

            Tensing up beside her, the other woman’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oh. You’re Regina’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

            Emma’s got the dinner roll stuffed halfway in her mouth, wondering why on earth the woman would deflate so much at this information, when realization hits.

            “Shi’” she curses around her food. Chewing viciously and swallowing, Emma confirms, “You’re Mary.”

            Mary’s lips close into a thin line as she nods solemnly.

            “Shit,” Emma repeats, more softly. Mary doesn’t seem surprised by Emma’s reaction; in fact, her own dramatically changed expression seems to indicate that she’s expecting something even more negative.

            “Um…” Emma stutters, unsure how to proceed.

            “She told you not to talk to me, didn’t she?”

            Guiltily, Emma glances around the room, keeping an eye out in case Regina comes in and sees the pair talking. She wonders if she should get up and sit somewhere else.

            “Uh… yeah, she did. I’m sorry.”

            Dipping her head in disappointment, Mary begins to gather her plate and says, “I should probably find somewhere else to sit.”

            Emma rises as well, feeling bad about making the woman move. “No, no, I’ll go. I didn’t even realize… I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be.”

            Both women end up leaving the table, heading into the living room and then parting to opposite ends of the party.

            As Emma leans against a wall near the tree, Zelena sidles up next to her.

            “May I stand with you?”

            “Sure,” Emma replies. “This is quite some party you guys put on.”

            Zelena chuckles. “I know Walsh was a bit overwhelmed during his first. It’s a little over-the-top, but we’re used to it. Mother’s been doing this since before we were born. It’s tradition. Ham?”

            She holds out her plate, directly under Emma’s nose, and Emma’s mouth waters at the offering.

            “No thanks,” she forces out. “I’m a vegetarian.”

            Zelena takes her plate back with a slight smirk.

            “Are you really?”

            The question puts Emma on edge, makes her skin prickle with trepidation, and suddenly she feels like she’s walking on thin ice. Emma’s stomach churns with nervousness, Zelena’s statement carrying too much weight.

            “Yeah, I am. Save the animals, you know?” It’s a weak response, and Emma knows it, but she’s caught off-guard.

            “That’s very interesting,” Zelena muses, stabbing a piece of ham with her fork. “Because earlier tonight, as I was changing in the bedroom, I overheard a particularly interesting conversation.”

            Emma’s heart pounds furiously against her chest, realizing which conversation she must have heard. How could they have been so careless? And if Zelena knows, is everything over?

            “Did you?” Emma asks, busying herself with a sip of her eggnog.

            “Oh yes. I know that you’re not a vegetarian.”

A wave of fear fills Emma, tickling her toes and threatening to redden her face.

            “I know that my sister is paying you to –”

            “Okay, okay!” Emma interrupts, shushing her. Caught, she takes the pregnant woman’s arm and escorts her into a nearby room – she barely registers it as the study after they enter – and shuts the door behind them.

            Facing the redhead, Emma takes a deep breath.

            “You’re right. I’m not Mal.”

            “Oh my God,” Zelena mutters to herself, shaking her head as if she can’t possibly believe it’s true. “So… who are you? Friend? Acquaintance? Stranger?”

            Emma shuffles under the scrutiny. “I’m a barista at a coffee shop she goes to.”

            Zelena laughs. “Oh, this is rich!” She clutches her heart, beaming with bemusement.

            “But you can’t tell anyone!” Emma hastily adds. “We only did this because Regina’s tired of your mom bugging her about finding a partner. She doesn’t want to disappoint her.”

            Zelena picks a piece of ham off her plate and puts it in her mouth. Emma’s eyes watch it the whole way, wistfully.

            “Oh, that, I understand,” Zelena chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to spill your little secret.”

            Relief washes over Emma and she smiles. “Thank you, thank you so much for understandi–”

            “I’ll just have a little fun of my own.” Without another word and sporting a smug expression, Zelena turns, opens the door, and returns to the party.


	6. December 24, 2016 – 8:08pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a bunch of fluffiness at the beginning, but the second half has some heavier stuff in it.  
> Trigger Warning: talk of infertility

Saturday, December 24, 2016 – 8:08pm

            The words register in Emma’s brain, and suddenly her heart’s racing at a million miles per hour again. Panic erupting within her, she chases after Zelena back into the foyer.

            “Zelena! Zelena!”

            She navigates around various partygoers, following that easy-to-spot head of red hair through the thick crowd of people.

            “Excuse me,” she says, squeezing herself between bodies as she makes her way to Zelena. Somehow, though, she falls behind, and soon Zelena’s disappeared into the living room. How a pregnant woman can move through a crowd so fast, Emma has no idea. She stands at the archway between the rooms, surveying the crowd for the woman but failing to spot her. Dammit, what does she have planned?

            Finally, Emma spots, not a head of bright red hair, but that intoxicating red dress her supposed girlfriend is wearing. At least she can warn Regina about what’s happening.

            “Regina!” she calls, noticing that the woman seems to be backed against the wall, cornered by a man in a nice suit and a creepy smile. When she glances over at Emma, relief clearly washes over her as she excuses herself and crosses the room to meet the blonde.

            “Oh, thank God,” Regina begins, breathless as she stands next to Emma. “Sidney’s had a barely concealed crush on me for ages and corners me every chance he ca–”

            “Zelena knows.”

            Regina stops mid-sentence, her eyes bugging out.

            “What?” she hisses.

            “Zelena knows. About us. About me.”

            “What? How did this happen? How –”

            “She overheard us when we argued about my vegetarianism,” Emma supplies, lowering her voice against potential eavesdroppers.

            “Shit,” Regina curses, raising her fingertips to her forehead in panic. “Is she going to tell anyone?”

            “She said she wouldn’t,” Emma says, keeping an eye out for Cora.

            Regina accepts the information with a sigh. “Okay. Good. At least we won’t have to worry about –”

            “She just said she’ll to have some fun of her own. Whatever the hell that means.”

            And just as quickly as relief overcomes her, rage takes over just as quickly, chocolate eyes instantly filling with venom as she seethes, “I’ll kill her. What does that even mean? What –”

            The gentle, definite chime of glass interrupts her, and both women turn to find the source of the sound. Across the room, Zelena stands next to Cora, holding a spoon to her glass of water.

            “Hey, everyone! I’d just like to point out that Regina and Mal are standing under the mistletoe!”

            Instantly, every eye falls upon them.

            The crowd rumbles with whoops and cheers of, “Kiss!” and even a wolf whistle.

            Zelena beams with mischief. “How about a little smooch?”

            Another wolf whistle precedes more cries of encouragement from onlookers before the crowd falls silent in anticipation. Cora smiles at the girls, oblivious to the information Zelena could give her at any moment. Fifty pairs of eyes accompany Cora’s, watching both women intently, waiting expectantly for the mandatory display of affection.

            Emma turns back to Regina, heartbeat thundering in her ears. There’s absolutely no way out of this, as far as Emma can see. Not with everyone watching. Not while standing under the mistletoe, of all things. They can’t refuse without looking suspicious or risking Zelena exposing them.

            Raising her eyebrows, Emma gives a subtle nod of her head as a request for permission.

            Regina’s chocolate eyes flit to the crowd watching them, frantically searching for a solution but coming up empty. Finally, Regina looks back at Emma again and responds with her own small nod.

            Emma’s eyes drop to Regina’s mouth, following the brunette’s tongue as it pokes out to lick dark red lips.

            _Let’s get this over with_ , Emma thinks. Leaning over, she pecks Regina’s lips with her own, her breath catching as she does so. The kiss lasts less than a second, not quite a kiss but hopefully enough to satisfy the crowd.

            No such luck. “Oh, come on,” Zelena protests. “That was barely a peck! Give us a _real_ kiss!”

            Regina rolls her eyes at her sister’s insistence, offering an exasperated look to Zelena, but one knowing smirk from the redhead and a silent threat to expose them turn Regina back to Emma.

            Awkwardly, the blonde reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Regina’s ear. All she can think is _sell it_ , but before Emma has a chance to do anything else, it’s Regina initiating the kiss, warm, plump lips pressed against Emma’s pale ones. Surprised at Regina’s intensity, Emma just accepts it, tasting champagne and lipstick and smelling Regina’s cinnamon and vanilla perfume. There’s a warm palm pressed against her cheek, and all Emma can feel is _warm, warm, warm._ Their whole relationship had been fabricated from the beginning, but right now, kissing Regina feels like the most real moment the two have ever shared.

            And then Regina’s pulling away, and Emma feels her absence in the sudden cold of air hitting her cheek and those lips moving further away and that body moving backwards, backwards, away and all Emma wants to do is pull her back in again.

            The women lock eyes, Emma breathless from what had happened and Regina’s expression unreadable. They continue to watch each other, oblivious to the claps and cheers of the crowd around them, trying to read the other’s thoughts. The kiss had only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like even more. It felt like it had _meant_ something. Emma had never felt that much electricity with anyone else. Not even Lily.

            Regina’s the first to break eye contact, glancing around at their audience and smiling as guests return to their conversations. Once the general attention turns away from them, she shoots daggers across the room and makes a beeline for Zelena.

            “Regina!” Emma exclaims, scrambling to catch up to the brunette.

            She makes it to Regina’s side just in time to hear a sharp, “Meet me in the kitchen,” before the brunette takes off again.

            “Oh, you two were adorable!” Zelena exclaims. Emma gives her a glare that seems to have no effect on the woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. Leaning in close, Zelena says in a low voice, “Now _that_ was a real kiss.” With a satisfied smirk, Zelena disappears after Regina, and Emma is left dumbfounded in her wake.

*

            Regina paces the length of the kitchen, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks are hot with embarrassment (or arousal?) from what had just transpired. Luckily, the room is empty, gifting her with a few precious moments to pull herself together.

            She hadn’t felt _anything_ for the blonde. Perhaps an inkling of attraction when she’d caught Emma shirtless in her bedroom. Or that other time when Emma was doing pull-ups. But she hadn’t contemplated anything further until Emma’s lips were pressed against her own.

            Putting her hands on the counter, Regina leans over the sink and glances at the snow outside the window. She had kissed Emma. Emma had kissed her. It had thrown her so off-balance that she barely had enough composure left to command Zelena into the kitchen before she made it to safety.

            Speak of the devil, her sister bursts into the room with a cheerful, “Well, that was fun,” as the rumbling of the crowd grows and abates with the opening and closing of the door.

            Regina turns on her with fire in her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

            “Oh, come on, you two are dating. It’s just a bit of fun.”

            “I _know_ that you know, Zelena.”

            “Know what?” Zelena asks, barely making an effort to conceal her smugness.

            “Fuck you,” Regina replies, crossing her arms and turning so she can only see her sister out of the corner of her eye. “You better not tell anyone.”

            “Oh, I promise I won’t. Though, you can’t blame me for yanking your chains a little, can you?”

            “That was completely inappropriate,” Regina declares. “You _knew_ the whole thing was a sham but you had to do it anyway.”

            “And if Mother had done the same thing?”

            “That’s different. She doesn’t know we’re not really dating. What’s going on between me and Emma is completely for her benefit, not your own amusement.”

            Zelena shrugs, unfazed. “Come on. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy it.”

            Regina freezes. It’s true; she _had_ enjoyed the kiss. In fact, she almost wishes she could do it again. Kiss Emma’s chapped lips, run her fingers through long blonde curls…

            But it’s not like anything will happen between her and Emma. It had just been a kiss. They barely know each other. And it’s not fair to her or Emma for Zelena to mess around with the plan that until this point has been going almost perfectly.

            At Regina’s lack of response, Zelena continues, smirking at the silent confirmation.

            “And to be honest, it probably helped your little façade. Neither of you are particularly affectionate; you’d have had Mother suspicious if I hadn’t stepped in.”

            Grumbling, Regina muses that her sister’s right. She and Emma _have_ been rather cold when it comes to public affection. If they’re trying to convince everyone else of their relationship, they’ll have to step it up.

            “So really, you should be saying thank you.”

            Regina rolls her eyes, unfolding her arms and leaning over the island to face Zelena again.

            “Fine. Maybe you have a point about our lack of affection, but I will _not_ be doing any thanking until you promise not to pull any more stunts like that again.”

            This time, Zelena huffs and rolls her eyes, as if refraining from any more pranks will require more effort than she’s actually willing to put forward. “Fine. No more tricking you two into potentially risky circumstances.”

            Regina sighs in relief. “Thank you.” Ready to rejoin the party, she misses the smirk spreading across Zelena’s face.

            “Soooo...” she draws. Regina stops and takes in Zelena’s expression with a furrowed brow.

            “What?”

            Zelena shrugs. “What do you think of her?”

            “Of who?”

            Rolling her eyes again, Zelena clarifies, “Your… Emma, is it?”

            “She’s not _my_ Emma.”

            “Yeah, whatever. What do you think?”

            Regina sighs. “She’s incredibly irritating, but she has her moments.” She starts toward the door, trying to end the conversation without revealing more, but Zelena’s having none of it.

            “No, tell me what you _really_ think of her.”

            Pausing mid-step, Regina thinks of leaving Zelena in the kitchen and keeping everything to herself. She knows if she’s going to make it through this weekend, she can’t let any of her feelings out without risking total disaster. She even makes it to the door.

            But it’s Zelena’s soft, “Come on, it had to have meant something,” that makes her sigh, turn back around, and sit down on the nearest bar stool. She could really use someone to talk to about this, anyway.

            “I don’t know. She’s kind of annoying actually. Too stubborn for her own good.”

            “Coming from the Queen of ‘I’ll Do What I Want.’”

            Regina glares at her, but it’s more with irritation than actual anger.

            “She’s messy and clumsy and wears this hideous red leather jacket.”

            “But…?” Zelena urges.

            Regina plays with the ring on her finger, trying to phrase her next statement just right.

            “But I’ve never kissed anyone like that. Not even the real Mal.”

            Zelena fist-pumps, excitement emulating from every pore in her body.

            “I knew it! I knew you liked her.”

            “Be quiet! Someone might hear you.” Regina chides, though not unkindly. “Besides, I don’t have feelings for her.”

            Ignoring her denial, Zelena beams again. “You should do something for her.” Regina starts to shake her head, but her sister won’t have any of it. “Do it. If nothing happens between you two, then nothing happens. But even then, at least it’ll help convince everyone else.”

            Regina runs her fingers though her hair, contemplating the suggestion. It’s dangerous. She’s _paying_ Emma to do this. Emma’s not going to develop feelings for her; Regina’s just going overboard, like she does everything else.

            But if neither of them has feelings, then what’s the harm in putting in a little more effort sell their relationship?

            Wordlessly, Regina pushes off the stool and finally rejoins the party.

*

            Emma wonders whether or not to follow Regina into the kitchen.

            On the one hand, perhaps she should be with Regina to criticize Zelena for what she’d done. On the other hand, maybe this is more of a sister-sister sort of thing than a sister-sister-fake-lover thing.

            Ultimately, Emma decides to wait it out, busying herself with some eggnog and standing as far as possible from the mistletoe, watching the guests talk the night away. Cora’s engaged in a discussion with an older man whose golden cane rests against the chair as they talk. Henry’s entertaining his grandchildren in the other room, and slowly, people begin to shuffle out the door – mostly people with kids who have to be put to bed before their visit from Santa. David and Mary leave with their son in tow, and Emma feels some guilt (and some relief) at their departure. Mary was nice – what could they have done to irritate Regina so much?

            As she watches the crowd thin out, Walsh moves to stand beside her.

            “Hey.”

            “Hi.” She hasn’t spent much time around Walsh – besides their conversation about football – but he seems normal enough compared to his wife’s family, so Emma welcomes his conversation.

            “Enjoying the party?”

            “Yeah,” Emma replies, eyeballing the crockpot with the ham inside.

            “Don’t worry about the mistletoe,” Walsh says. “The first time I came here, Zelena all but ordered me under it. I wasn’t ready though, so when she tried to kiss me, I spilled my eggnog. All over my pants.”

            Emma chuckles at the story.

            “It looked like I wet myself, and I don’t think anyone’s ever let that one go.”

            Grinning, Emma replies, “Well, maybe after this year they’ll remember something else instead.” Walsh laughs, but the joke dies instantly with Emma when she realizes that, especially if she and Regina are compromised, everyone will _definitely_ remember her for years to come.

            “Well, as crazy as this party is, I think we both lucked out.”

            Confused, Emma narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

            Walsh smiles. “With who we ended up with. The Mills women are stubborn as hell, but they’re also bold and love as deeply as they fight.”

            Emma digests his words, looking to the kitchen door where their partners are probably arguing about what had just happened. It’s sweet of him to say, but she’d probably find it more touching if her relationship with Regina wasn’t fake.

            Her chest pangs when she realizes that she may never speak to Regina again after this weekend. The brunette has shown her a whole part of her world that apparently wasn’t shared with anyone else very often, if her family’s obsession with their relationship was anything to go by. How are they supposed to go from almost-strangers to whatever this is and back to strangers again?

            Realizing Walsh is waiting for a response, Emma replies, “Yeah, they’re really something else.”

            It’s nice as they let the moment settle. Then –

            “So… like, how do lesbians… you know…?”

            …and the moment’s gone.

            Sighing, Emma shakes her head and walks away, unable to form any words together for a response.

            Luckily, Regina emerges from the kitchen, spots Emma, and crosses to her.

            “All good?” Emma asks, worrying about Regina’s fight with Zelena.

            “All good,” Regina confirms. She pauses for a moment, seeming unsure, before gesturing to a couch with her thumb. “Do you want to sit down?”

            “Sure,” Emma says, and the pair crosses the room and settles down on one of the couches, considerably closer than they’d sat when they first arrived.

            “Is Zelena going to tell?”

            Regina shakes her head, “No. And she promised not to pull any more stunts, either. We’re safe.”

            “Great,” Emma says. She glances at the food table, remembering the conversation she’d had with Mary.

            “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

            “Sure.”

            “I, um, I accidentally ran into Mary earlier.” Before Regina can lose her cool, Emma tacks on, “I didn’t know it was her, and as soon as I found out, I walked away.”

            Regina, though visibly upset at the information, nods. “Okay. Thank you for being honest with me.”

            Emma licks her lips. “There’s just one thing though… When I was talking to her, she seemed… really _nice_. I don’t know, I just… I don’t understand why you hate her so much…”

            Regina clenches her jaw, and whatever she’s about to say, Emma knows it’s not good.

            She sighs to ready herself. “Mary stole Kathryn’s husband.”

            Emma blinks. She didn’t see this coming. Mary had seemed so sweet…

            “It was a few years ago, while I was visiting over Christmas. David had been cheating on Kathryn for about a month. I stopped by the library to get away from my family for a bit. I was just browsing, looking for something to read, but when I walked towards the back, there they were, behind a bookshelf…”

            She trails off, letting the sentence finish itself.

            “Thank goodness it was me who walked in on them and not Kathryn. I yelled at both of them, gave them a piece of my mind, before storming out of there and going straight to Kathryn. She had every right to know.”

            Emma shifts a little at the information. “Shit, that’s horrible.”

            “The worst part…” Regina continues, “Is that now they’re married with a baby and flaunting all of that right in front of her face.”

            Remembering her earlier conversation with Kathryn, she remembers the woman mentioning that she’d always wanted to pursue law, _but… a few things got in the way_.

            “It’s disgusting,” Regina spits. “They even had the _nerve_ to act like they had the moral high ground. _‘We were going to tell you. We were just waiting for the right time.’_ Honestly, if I never see them again, it will be too soon.”

            Emma had never heard such venom in her voice, not even when Regina had been criticizing her on the car ride here.

            “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

            Regina shrugs. “At least now she’s spending most of her time at school. Better for her not to see them.”

            Just as Regina finishes speaking, Kathryn picks that moment to approach them and bid them goodbye.

            Kathryn hugs Regina and they plant air kisses on each other’s cheek before she shakes hands with Emma. She departs quickly, and Emma wonders what it’d be like if she had to see Lily every single year after…

            _No_. She will _not_ think about that.

            There’s a buzzing sound, and it turns out to be Regina’s phone. The brunette takes out her phone, opens the message, and chuckles, closing her eyes and shaking her head for good measure.

            “What?” Emma asks.

            Regina glances up at her, contemplating whether or not to show her, before she turns the screen toward Emma to see.

            It’s a picture of the woman who had been with Regina at Starbucks. Except now, she’s lying against white bedsheets and beneath a (real?) fur comforter, thankfully covered by them as it’s obvious she’s not wearing anything else. Cuddled up against her side and kissing her cheek is another woman, also bare save the bedsheet. The pair look extremely happy, and Emma can’t help but smile.

            “Aw, your friend looks so happy. Is that her girlfriend?”

            This makes Regina laugh and shake her head again. She takes back the phone and examines the picture again.

            “It’s one of the women who responded to…” she peeks around the room for potential eavesdroppers, discovering that most of the guests had departed. “…my you-know what,” she finishes.

            It takes Emma a moment to remember that Regina had actually put out an ad for the service Emma’s currently providing, since she hadn’t responded to an ad but volunteered in person.

            “Honestly, I’m surprised that this didn’t happen sooner. Their pickup lines were making me sick.”

            Emma leans over Regina’s shoulder to get another glimpse of the picture and starts laughing at the situation.

            “Oh my god.”

            Regina chuckles, sending another quick text just as Cora approaches and requests their help cleaning up. The women quickly agree and head over to the food table to start compiling dishes.

            After a moment though, Regina’s disappeared, but Emma doesn’t worry too much as she continues moving food around and picking up empty dishes.

            Just then, a familiar chime of bells rings throughout the room, and Emma beams with excitement, turning to see a smiling Regina walking over from the DJ stand.

            Spotting the smirk on her face, Emma wonders… Regina didn’t…?

            “Did you request this song?”

            Nodding, Regina beams and adorably covers her mouth with her hand, and _that’s_ a sight Emma never thought she’d see. Quickly, Regina composes herself and replies, “I felt bad about cutting you off on the way here. Do you want to dance?”

            Emma’s grin widens. “Fuck yes.”

            Tugging the brunette into the middle of the empty living room, Emma lets loose for the first time that night, finally getting to enjoy her favorite Christmas song ever.

            “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need…”

            Emma shakes her hips and wags her index finger to the beat, making Regina laugh, and man, that might be the sweetest sound she’s ever heard. Emma keeps singing, finally relishing in her song and also relishing in the company she’s in. She watches Regina dance, her movements not quite as wild as Emma’s, but captivating just the same.

            “I just want you for my own,

            More than you could ever know,

            Make my wish come true…”

            Emma folds her hands likes she’s begging, then points to Regina as she sings, “All I want for Christmas is yooooou.”

            The two keep dancing, waving their hands in the air, shimmying their shoulders, popping their hips, and whatever else they can think of. For the rest of the song, the only two people who exist are each other (and they don’t even notice the family members coming in and out of the room with amused grins while cleaning up from the party).

            The song ends, and the women glance over at the DJ, who packs up her equipment but waves at them with a knowing grin. They turn back to each other, smiles still evident but less pronounced. Emma watches Regina, who laughs as she tries to catch her breath, running hands through her hair in attempt to fix the mess it’d become while dancing. Emma sees the gleam of happiness in those coffee eyes and relishes in the fact that she had been a part of making Regina smile like that.

            “Thank you,” she breathes.

            In response, Regina just smiles.

*

            The rest of the night goes smoothly. Emma and Regina help clean up and box leftovers, which seems to take much less time than getting the house ready.

            Once everything’s all cleaned up, everyone returns to the living room to carry out some Mills family traditions.

            “Hunter,” Zelena says, “Why don’t you grab the book?

            As Hunter bounces over to the bookshelf, Emma feigns a yawn, stretching both arms into the air dramatically. She’s not making any effort to be sly as she brings one arm down around Regina’s shoulders. The brunette doesn’t say anything, but a few seconds later, she leans closer into Emma’s side.

            It’s only for the façade, but they fit together like puzzle pieces.

            Hunter locates the flat, red, hardcover book on one of the lower shelves, brings it over to Henry, and plops down on the man’s right side as Kelly snuggles into his left. Henry waits for everyone to get settled before reverently opening to the first page.

            A beat passes, the air still with anticipation before he begins.

            “T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”

            “Look, a mouse!” Kelly exclaims, pointing to something on the page that Emma can’t see.

            “Sh!” Hunter stage whispers, shooting his sister a glare.

            “Kids,” Walsh warns. Sheepishly, both children return their attention to their grandfather.

            “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there…”

            The story continues, with occasional quips form Kelly or Hunter about the story or the illustrations. The flames in the fireplace flicker softly, and Regina’s body feels warm next to Emma’s.

            Before they know it, the kids have been put to bed, after an important ritual of putting out milk, cookies, and carrots for Santa and the reindeer (during which Emma does _not_ feel domestic at all, not even when Regina leans a bit closer as the kids set up the treats). The adults are left lounging around the living room: Zelena splayed across an entire couch with Walsh rubbing her feet, Henry in one of the armchairs, and Cora, Emma, and Regina taking up the other couch.

            They small-talk about nothing in particular, the Mills’ remembering Christmases past and Emma relishing the stories and the way everyone seems so comfortable and at home. When Cora asks if anyone wants more eggnog or wine, Emma offers to retrieve it and departs for the kitchen.

            Zelena’s dozed off about twenty minutes ago, Henry’s currently nodding off, and Walsh takes advantage of the break in conversation to check on the kids (and make sure they’re _really_ asleep). The redhead’s hands rest comfortably around her swollen belly, and every once in a while she rubs it instinctively.

            Cora and Regina watch the sight contentedly, exchanging no words. There’s a moment or two of silence before Cora speaks up.

            “Regina.”

            “Yes, Mother,” Regina says distractedly, thinking back to her kiss with Emma.

            Cora coughs, which means she’s demanding Regina’s full attention, so the brunette makes eye contact with her mother to show she’s listening, unprepared for what’s coming next.

            “I know Mal wants to adopt, and that’s completely fine, but I hope you’ll have at least one of your own.”

            The other shoe drops. Her heart pounds against her chest, and her stomach churns, fast and furious with anxiety and dread and nervousness. She thought that for once, she could get through a family holiday scotch-free, but clearly the world had conspired against her.

            After a deep breath in an attempt to calm her queasy insides, Regina says, “But an adopted child would be just as mine as any other child.”

            Cora smiles, but Regina can’t feel any of its warmth. “You know what I mean. Being pregnant is one of the most wonderful experiences I’ve ever had. Your sister is going through it now, and I hope one day you’ll go through it, too.”

            Regina swallows the lump in her throat, trying to form words into a response, trying to repress the guilt creeping up on her, but, at that moment, Emma returns from the kitchen with a bottle of wine.

            “Just think about it,” Cora says before taking her drink from Emma and murmuring her thanks.

            Regina’s blood boils, her stomach tying itself into knots as her skin lights on fire. Frustration and exhaustion build up inside her and all she wants is out.

            For once, she’d thought she could be enough for her mother. For once, she thought that if she did one thing to make her mother happy, Cora would be satisfied, if only for the weekend. She thought that her plan would help curb potential critique or expectation, but she was wrong. With a few careless words, Cora confirmed one fact – nothing Regina did would ever be enough for her mother.

            She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. Making a scene here and now wouldn’t be productive in any way; she has to pretend that the statement doesn’t bother her. If she waits just a little bit longer, she’ll be able to safely and discretely turn in for the night. She downs her next glass of wine faster than the others, relishing in the way it burns down her throat and eager for the effects to take on. As an afterthought, she glances around the room, hoping no one else noticed.

            But of course, Emma did.

            There’s a hand on her thigh and concern etched across her beautiful features.

            Softly, she asks, “You okay?”

            Regina shakes her head to dismiss the notion that she was anything but. “I’m fine, dear.”

            She watches her mother cross to Zelena, still draped across the couch, and press a hand to that critical bulging stomach. There’s such pride etched across her face as she takes in her sleeping daughter and her soon-to-be grandchild. It’s a look that Regina will never receive for herself.

            Tired and resolved, Regina rises from the couch.

            “I think it’s timed I turned in.”

            Her father stirs, blinking up at her, and smiles fondly.

            “Goodnight, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

            Despite whatever Cora-nonsense she’s dealing with, she can never be mad at her father. She crosses to him and kisses his forehead.

            “Night, Daddy. Merry Christmas.”

            Without a word to Cora or Zelena, who hadn’t woken at Regina’s announcement of departure, she leaves the room and heads for the kitchen, where she deposits her wine glass in the sink. Reconsidering, she rifles through her parents’ liquor cabinet to find a half-full bottle of whiskey.

            She’s not planning to get drunk or overdo it, but she needs a little extra to erase her mother’s “helpful guidance” from the forefront of her mind.

            As she’s pouring herself a shot into the bottom of her wine glass, Emma walks into the kitchen. She stops in her tracks when she sees what Regina’s doing.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?”

            In response, Regina simply downs her shot with one hand while offering the bottle with her other. “Wanna shot?”

            Emma takes the bottle, fearing Regina will want more and wind up with a hangover on Christmas Day, but doesn’t drink from it.

            “What’s wrong?” she asks, locating the open cabinet where the bottle belongs and putting it back in its place.

            Regina shakes her head as she rinses her glass out with water.

            “It’s nothing.”

            “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

            In lieu of an answer, Regina heads to the door, intent on dragging herself upstairs to bed.

            “You coming?”

            Rinsing out her wine glass and leaving it in the sink next to Regina’s, Emma nods.

            “I told them I’m going to bed, too.”

            Regina nods back, holding the door for Emma as they cross the foyer. Together, they climb the steps and disappear into the bedroom. They change in the dark, facing away from each other for privacy, and wordlessly climb into bed.

            They lie on their backs for what seems like hours, the air thick with tension. Regina turns on her side, away from Emma, and tries not to think about her mother’s statement. It’s no use, though, and the only thought running through her head is that this has been a pointless mission. She’d brought Emma hoping Mother would stop meddling in her life, and the opposite had occurred; it seems that Cora’s even _more_ interested in Regina’s life now that she’s in a supposed long-term relationship. And, the icing on the cake: Cora’s just made it clear that Regina won’t ever live up to her expectations.

            This plan has been a waste of both Emma and Regina’s time.

            Rolling onto her back, she sneaks a peek at the blonde, who’s also lying on her back, eyes closed, but clearly still awake. Regina can’t stop thinking about their kiss, how real it felt, how easy it had been to lean into Emma’s side earlier that night.

            Regina breaks the silence with a soft voice, though it seems loud against the quiet night.

            “Why’d you do it?”

            “Do what?” Emma asks.

            Glancing over at the blonde, Regina clarifies. “Why are you here? Why did you agree to do this?”

            “I needed the money.” Emma shrugs, seeming nonchalant.

            “No, I mean why’d you do _this_? If you wanted more money, you could have asked your boss for a raise or picked up some extra hours. Why are you giving up your Christmas to help me?”

            Emma seems pensive for a long moment, and Regina doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the blonde responds. “I dunno. I guess it doesn’t really feel like I’m giving anything up.”

            Regina remains silent, waiting for Emma to go on. “I grew up in the foster system. I haven’t really had that many good Christmases. Maybe a few, if I was I a good home that year. But mostly, Christmas has never been that special to me. Just a day off school or work. The past few years, it’s just been me and Neal, and sometimes it’s just me. I guess I just thought it might be nice to spend Christmas with a real family for once.”

            Regina’s heart pangs as she remembers her conversation with Emma two days ago.

_“You realize this is over Christmas. You’ll be with my family for the days leading up to and afterwards. You won’t be able to celebrate it with your own family.”_

_“That’s not a problem.”_

            She remembers Emma’s quick response and her own subsequent curiosity surrounding it, the moment alive with sudden clarity as she realizes the reason behind Emma’s nonchalant attitude towards the date of the year.

            Emma’s comment about adoption when they’d first arrives also makes sense now. She wasn’t just talking about her friend. She was talking about herself.

            Regina sucks in a breath. Emma’s revealed something to her – of course, the blonde wouldn’t have if she wasn’t comfortable – and now Regina wants to share. She shouldn’t feel compelled to, but talking with Emma seems so _easy_. Like she would understand why Regina had run off to bed like a wounded animal. Like she wouldn’t judge Regina for being upset.

            “I can’t have children.”

            Emma’s head turns to the side, and Regina turns her own head to avoid eye contact, though she’s sure Emma can see her watery eyes.

            “What?”

            Regina takes a breath before elaborating. “I found out a few months ago. Mal consoled me and said, ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’ I didn’t know what she meant by it then. I thought maybe it was her whole ‘karma-and-the-universe, everything-happens-for-a-reason’ thing, but it wasn’t until she broke up with me that I wondered, maybe she never even wanted children to begin with.” Regina sniffs, not crying but still upset, and shifts, causing the mattress to creak.

            Then, there’s a hand wrapping around hers and a soft squeeze, and warmth floods through Regina as Emma says, “I’m sorry.”

            Regina’s lips curl into an almost-smile, flashing once in acknowledgement before settling again.

            “Is that why she broke up with you? Because she didn’t want children?”

            It takes a moment, but then, Regina shrugs. “Maybe. I think that was part of it. She said we wanted different things. I wanted children, and she...” Again, the word _didn’t_ feels all too natural, but that wasn’t what she’d said, was it? “She’s focused on herself and her career.”

            Emma squeezes her hand again. “That really sucks.”

Dark, chocolate eyes scan the ceiling, moving back and forth as she contemplates what to say next. “I know there are other ways to have children. My wife could carry, we could adopt…” She takes another breath, shakes her head. “But my mother wants to see me pregnant. And she’s not going to let it go until I tell her.”

            Regina closes her eyes, once again imagining what Mother’s response would be. She remembers her mother’s constant reminders about children and biological clocks. Remembers a livid Cora after coming out as a lesbian, remembers her mother assuming Regina will never provide any grandchildren and how disappointed she’d been. Remembers trying to calm her down until she could explain that there are other ways of getting children. Remembers how the words _artificial insemination_ had had the same effect on her worked-up mother as an Epi-pen would have on someone going into anaphylaxis.

            Reassured, Cora announced it was fine if her daughter was gay as long as she could still provide grandchildren. But Regina has said she won’t adopt or have children until she’s married, which led to Cora’s constant nagging about finding a wife. Regina thought that if she took one step in the right direction, her mother’s constant criticism would cease for even a weekend. Clearly, that wasn’t the case, and now, it doesn’t take a genius to guess how the woman would react to the news of Regina’s infertility, and she’s sure that Emma’s heard enough over the past few days to understand her dilemma.

            “I know it’s not my fault and that sometimes these things just happen, but… she’ll blame me. She’ll say I did something to cause this, something to deserve it. I’m never...” she pauses, choosing her words. “I’m never good enough for her. She always wants more. She wants me to get married. She wants me to have a child.”

            She pauses, thinking, and then clarifies, “Both of which I want, too. But going at my own pace isn’t fast enough for her.”

            “That’s why you brought me here,” Emma realizes. “So your mom would stop bugging you about finding a girlfriend.”

            It’s the same reason Regina had given at the beginning of this adventure, but with this new information, it carries a lot more weight now.

            “Yes. But now that she thinks I’m dating someone, she’s trying to push me even harder.”

            It takes a moment for Emma to digest this. “So we’ve basically done all of this for nothing.”

            “Pretty much. I’m sorry. If you want to back out now…”

            Emma shakes her head, squeezes their hands again. “No, no, don’t be sorry. And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

            Taking a deep breath, Regina glances over at Emma, and for one moment, a look of understanding and gratitude passes between them. Then, suddenly, Regina remembers her place, remembers who she’s sitting beside, and slips her hand from Emma’s grasp.

            “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. We’re not even friends, let alone in a relationship.”

            “Hey,” Emma says, taking the hand back. Her hand feels warm and safe, and Regina almost but doesn’t dare let herself think of the word _home._ “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me.”

            Regina squeezes Emma’s hand to thank her for listening. They lie like that together, on their backs staring at the ceiling, for several minutes. When Regina suddenly sits upright in bed, Emma flinches, and Regina feels slightly bad for startling her.

            “You okay?” Emma asks groggily. She must have almost been asleep.

            Oh, well. Regina smiles wide as she turns to look at Emma, eyes flashing with mischief.

            “I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don’t worry, there’s a TON of fluff coming next!


	7. December 25, 2016 – 2:03am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to shift the fluff into maximum overdrive!

Sunday, December 25, 2016 – 2:03am

            Sneaking around the house at two in the morning on Christmas Day feels reminiscent of a distant memory. Emma tiptoes across the floor, a long-forgotten recollection bubbling to the surface of an early foster home. Back when she still believed in Santa.

            She’d been… three? Four? Out of pure luck, Emma wound up in one of the better homes that year. Her foster parents had made an effort to encourage the kids to believe in Santa, going through big rituals like writing letters and leaving out cookies and milk. Looking back now, Emma supposes none of the older kids bought into it – their time in the system preventing them from hoping for anything beyond a few pairs of socks or new school supplies – but played along for the younger kids’ sakes.

            In her letter, she’d only asked for two things: parents, as she asked for every year, and her very own soccer ball, so that she wouldn’t be left with one of the deflated ones during preschool. Early that morning, she thought she’d heard a noise downstairs (which as she discovered later, she’d only imagined) and the sound prompted five-year-old Emma to slip out of bed and tiptoe down the stairs.

            She’d been so carefully quiet, not wanting to scare off the big man before she got a chance to see him. The dark wood of the stairs creaked beneath her bare toes, and she remembers holding her breath so he wouldn’t hear it.

            When she got to the living room, where a small tree decorated with homemade ornaments had been put up, Santa was nowhere to be found. She brightened up, though, when she found a perfectly round present with her name on the tag. Red tissue paper lined the circular outside, and she just _knew_ that she’d gotten a soccer ball.

            Her foster mom had caught her at that point and sleepily sent her back to bed, promising that as soon as the sun rose, they could all open their presents together.

            It was a soccer ball.

            Someone stole it two years later at recess, and she didn’t bother to ask for another one.

            She feels like this now, rebellious that she’s up in the middle of the night when Santa could find her not in bed. Of course, there’s no threat of Santa finding her at all, but her heart’s beating just as fast in the quiet dark of the Mills’ house at night.

            The women creep down the stairs, careful to keep their feet light as they pass bedroom doors and skip creaky steps.

            “What are we doing?” Emma whispers once they’ve made it to the foyer, safely out of earshot from the bedrooms.

            Regina simply turns toward her, playful smirk dancing across her features as she brings a finger to her lips. She turns back around and Emma wordlessly follows her through the foyer and into the kitchen.

            “We’re not drinking more whiskey, are we?”

            An amused on her lips, Regina shakes her head no. The room floods with light when Regina opens the refrigerator, and, confused, Emma asks again.

            “What are you doing?”

            With a smug smirk on her face, Regina pulls out containers of leftover ham and turkey. She crosses to one of the cabinets, pulls out a plate, and arranges the meat on top of it. Then, she sticks it in the microwave and puts everything else away. While the meat heats in the microwave, she extracts a half-eaten apple pie, cuts two thin slices, and plates them as well. She catches the microwave right before it beeps and pulls out the plate, steam rising from the meat. Sliding the plate in front of Emma and handing her a fork, Regina smiles. “Bon appetit.”

            A wide grin spreads across Emma’s face. “Really?”

            Regina motions to the empty room. “There’s no one else here. You can eat as much as you want.”

            If it’s possible, Emma’s grin widens even more as she sticks her fork through a piece of turkey. “Thank you so much, Regina. Really.” As she shovels several forkfuls into her mouth, Regina uses a fork to cut into one of the slices of pie.

            Emma moans at the taste, and Regina shushes her so she doesn’t wake anyone else up. The blonde swallows her food and grins as she prepares a forkful of ham.

            “Your mother’s a genius,” Emma whispers as she bites into a piece of ham. “Terrifying, but a genius.”

            Regina smiles at Emma’s excitement, happy that she could satisfy the blonde for even a few minutes. All day, she’d felt a little bad about withholding something Emma clearly seemed to love. Hopefully this makes up at least a little for it.

            “I’m glad you like it.”

            Emma talks through a mouthful of food. “Seriously, Regina, thank you.”

            Hoping Emma can’t see her blush through the dark of the kitchen, Regina eats another bite of pie and pushes the other pie plate in the blonde’s direction.

            The reaction is immediate; Emma’s next bite contains a huge forkful of pie.

            Regina continues picking at her own pie, and Emma eats like a vacuum for another minute or so before she slows down to savor the taste.

            “You do this a lot?” Emma asks, taking another bite of turkey.

            “Do what?”

            Smirking as she chews, Emma swallows before clarifying, “Sneak downstairs on Christmas morning. You know, Santa knows when you’re sleeping and when you’re awake. If he finds out, he’ll put you on the naughty list.”

            Emma blushes when her last words register in her brain. Did she just… _flirt_ with Regina?

            She tries to laugh it off, and thankfully, Regina chuckles as well.

            “I used to, when I was little. Until one year Zelena woke me up saying she thought she heard Santa moving around downstairs. We sneaked downstairs, but when we reached the living room, we found our parents making out on the couch, the presents already under the tree. Needless to say, the illusion didn’t really work after that.”

            Emma winces at the story. “You mean not only did you find out the truth about Santa, but you also walked in on your parents getting ready to… _do_ it?”

            Regina shudders at the memory. “I’m just grateful they weren’t doing anything more. That would have been…” She shakes the thought out of her head. “Anyways, have you ever done this?”

            Emma shakes her head. “Only once or twice, when I was really little. I didn’t really believe in Santa that much, since he never brought me what I really wanted and I found out at an early age.” Shrugging like it’s no big deal, Emma digs back into her meat.

            “What happened?” Regina asks cautiously.

            Nonchalantly, Emma replies, “When I was five, my foster parents flat out told us they didn’t have money for presents and that Santa wouldn’t be coming.”

            Regina winces. “Ouch.”     

            “Yeah. Not quite as exciting as you finding your parents on the couch, though.”

            Chuckling, Regina eats another bite of pie. “Oh, come on. I bet you have some really exciting stories in your book.”

            Finishing off the meat, Emma laughs at a memory Regina can’t see. “Well, there _was_ this one time my foster parents…”

            Suddenly, Regina shushes her with a palm pressed to her mouth, her face staring intently at the kitchen door. Confused, Emma narrows her eyes but remains quiet. Then, she hears what Regina had heard.

            Light, pattering steps move throughout the foyer, high-pitched whispers floating through the door.

            Instantly, Regina sticks their plates (the meat gone, the pies half-finished) back into the fridge and ducks behind the counter, pulling Emma down along with her.

            The sounds remain muffled on the other side of the door, the kids more intent on checking the living room for presents or traces of the guy in the red suit.

            Emma’s back is pressed up against the island, Regina practically on top of her as they wait. The brunette pants, her chest moving in and out as she tries to keep her breaths quiet to avoid discovery. Her breasts are practically in Emma’s face, and Emma tries to find something else to look at besides the smooth silk pajama top that dances so close in front of her –

            The door creaks as someone pushes it open.

            Regina’s hand clamps down on both of their mouths.

            “Do you smell that?” Kelly whispers, her voice so quiet yet so loud at the same time.

            Soft footsteps pad through the kitchen as Hunter replies, “It smells like ham and turkey.”

            The footsteps get louder and Kelly gasps. Emma’s sure she and Regina are caught, but instead Kelly just says, “Do you think Santa ate some of our food?”

            Regina perches on the balls of her feet, sneakily moving across Emma to the side of the island facing away from the kids. Carefully, with her heart pounding out of her chest, Emma follows, keeping her head down and trying not to make a sound.

            There are more footsteps, and Hunter says, “He must’a been hungry. Maybe next year we should put out some meat, too.”

            Again, there are more footsteps, and Regina and Emma scramble to the end of the island facing the door to compensate for the kids’ position.

            “He’s not over here,” Hunter whispers. Emma wonders if he’d looked down the side they’d just been hiding behind.

            There are more footsteps, and Emma can’t tell which side they’re coming from, but then Regina’s crawling across the floor again, so Emma blindly follows.

            “Auntie Regina?”

            Emma freezes, unsure what to do. Regina’s frozen as well, glancing up at a sleepy-looking Kelly with a guilty smile.

            “Hi,” Regina whispers.

            More footsteps, and then Hunter’s standing beside Kelly, eyeing them both. “What are you guys doing down here?”

            Regina sits up on her knees, and Emma does the same. The brunette stays quiet for a long time – Emma assumes she’s thinking of a response – but Emma steps in.

            “We thought we heard Santa. Did you?”

            Kelly’s eyes go wide at the admission and nods. “You saw Santa?”

            “Heard him,” Emma gently corrects. “We think he was eating the ham and turkey.”

            Hunter seems just as shocked. “We do, too! And the cookies and milk and carrots are gone!”

            “Santa must have been hungry,” Regina adds.

            “Do you think he got enough to eat?” Kelly asks worriedly.

            Emma chuckles. “I think he got plenty.”

            Regina gives both children a meaningful look. “Now, don’t you think it’s time we all go back to bed?”

            Both kids groan quietly. “But we wanna open presents!” Kelly protests.

            Chuckling, Regina replies. “We can open presents in a couple of hours. Right now, we need to go to sleep, or Santa will know we almost caught him.”

            Solemnly, both kids nod, and Regina starts ushering them out of the room. With a discreet incline of her head, Regina indicates the refrigerator, and Emma understands she’s to clean up their dishes.

            As soon as the kids are out of earshot, Emma hurriedly loads her empty meat plate into the dishwasher, scrapes their pie crusts into the trash, and loads those plates and forks as well. Once she’s finished, she tiptoes up the stairs to find Regina backing into the hallway, gently closing the door to the kids’ room.

            They walk back to Regina’s bedroom silently, their arms an inch apart but still not touching.

            When they get back, Emma closes the door behind them and breathes a sigh of relief.

            “That was close.”

            Regina nods in agreement as she makes her way back to the bed.

            “Thank you for what you said. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I was the one who stopped them from believing in Santa.”

            “Me either,” Emma replies, climbing onto her side.

            The women pull the covers over themselves, but instead of falling asleep on their backs like before, they lie on their sides, facing the other.

            “Good night, Regina.”

            “Good night, Emma.”

            It’s not long until both fall into a peaceful sleep.

 

Sunday, December 25, 2016 – 6:34am

            The excited cheers of Kelly and Hunter coming from the other room serve as their alarm clock the next morning.

            Regina feels oddly disappointed when she wakes up on her own side of the bed, Emma still fast asleep on hers. It’s not that she’d been hoping the blonde would be snuggled up against her. Not at all. She just misses waking up tangled with Mal beneath the sheets. That’s it. Definitely not because she likes Emma. That would be ridiculous. Emma’s probably straight anyways; she’s only doing this for the money. Plus, Cora would never approve of Regina marrying a Starbucks barista.

            Regina shakes her head out of sleep. This woman isn’t _really_ dating her. She’s still practically a stranger, despite whatever connections they’d forged the night before. Where the hell did the idea of marrying her come from?

            She slips out of bed, pulls a warm grey robe around herself, and pads over to the bathroom, smirking at Hunter and Kelly’s shouts of, “Wake up, Mommy! Daddy, get up!” When she finishes in the bathroom, she finds Emma waiting outside the door.

            “Excuse me,” Regina mutters, brushing past.

            “Merry Christmas,” Emma whispers back, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

            Regina stops in her tracks, a small smile finding its way to her lips.

*

            Feeling much lighter than she had the previous night, Emma exits the bathroom and runs straight into little Kelly, whose bright blue eyes shine with excitement.

            “Mal! It’s Christmas!”

            Emma’s heart twinges at her excitement, feeling slightly guilty for their deception against the family.

            Pushing away her guilt, Emma kneels down to Kelly’s level, smiles widely, and replies, “I know! Merry Christmas!”

            “C’mon! We gotta wake up Auntie Regina and Grandma and Grandpa!”

            Emma doesn’t know how to acknowledge Cora after last night’s conversation without getting mad, so she excitedly tells the girl, “You go wake up Grandma and Grandpa. I’ll get Regina, okay?”

            “Okay!” Kelly claps her hands and runs down the hall to the master bedroom.

            Laughing at her antics, Emma stands back up and heads for Regina’s room to find the brunette sitting on the edge of their already-made bed, scrolling on her cell phone. When Regina hears her come in, she offers a smile and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

            Emma’s stomach warms, the statement almost too domestic, and all she wants to do is hug her or take her hand or arm or reach out and touch her at least. For now though, she moves to her duffel, digs out her bag of rice, and tries to turn her phone on.

            The screen lights up, nearly blinding against the dark room, and Emma breathes a sigh of relief.

            “It’s working again!” she says, scrolling through a slew of texts from Ruby.

**12/23/16 3:42pm: she lives in the middle of nowhere em**

**12/23/16 3:44pm: i think i just saw a COW… wtf???**

**12/23/16 4:11pm: ok, we made it**

**12/24/16 5:23pm: omg dorothy’s aunt is so hardcore she just butchered a pig using her BARE HANDS**

**12/24/16 5:24pm: like just looking at the pig made me nauseous**

**12/24/16 5:24pm: her BARE HANDS em.**

**12/24/16 5:39pm: you there? do they not have service in Maine? did she kidnap you?**

**12/24/16 5:54pm: if you don’t answer within 24 hours i’m calling the police**

            Chuckling, Emma sends out a quick text to let Ruby know she’s alive and vows to respond to the texts for real in a little while.

            Hunter comes barreling into the bedroom and runs straight into Regina.

            “Come on! Let’s go downstairs!”

            The brunette chuckles at her nephew. “Okay, we’re coming.”

            Hunter races back into the hallway, and both women stand to follow him.

            A slight tug on her arm surprises Emma, and then Regina’s arm slips through hers, and what is she doing? What is going on between them? No one’s around, no one can see what they’re doing. And yeah, in a few minutes everyone will come rushing out of their bedrooms and see them, but in this moment, there’s only two of them, and Emma feels so at ease with her arm linked to Regina’s that she stops wondering what it means and decides to simply enjoy it.

            She pats Regina’s arm with her free hand just as Walsh and Zelena emerge sleepily from their room. They greet each other with a subdued but cheerful “Merry Christmas” before the kids come barreling back into the hallway, followed by Cora and Henry.

            “Can we go down now?” Hunter asks.

            With all adults awake and accounted for, the children gain permission to race down the steps. At the archway to the living room, they stop short and marvel with excited cheers and muted ‘wow’s at the tall tree, which is surrounded by beautifully wrapped presents.

            A flash of light brings everyone’s attention to Cora, who’s snapped a photo of the kids’ awed expressions.

            “Can we open them?” Kelly asks, as if she’s afraid to disrupt the perfection of the moment.

            “Yes!” several adults respond at once. Instantly, the kids are moving again, kneeling next to the tree and ripping paper from packages and making appropriate sounds of appreciation at each present.

            The adults settle around the tree; Regina, Emma, and Walsh sit on the floor while Cora, Henry, and Zelena perch on one of the couches, which had been turned to face the tree. All of them watch with rapt attention as Kelly and Hunter tear through present after present, truly awed over what Santa had brought them and the magic of Christmas.

            As Hunter’s unwrapping a transformer toy, he asks without looking up, “Mommy, can we put ham and turkey out for Santa next year?”

            Zelena chuckles. “Why, sweetie?”

            “Cuz Santa likes ham and turkey!” Kelly exclaims as she struggles to open a new package.

            The adults exchange confused glances, and Emma feels a twinge of panic. She’s not supposed to have meat, and if the other adults find out that she’d snuck down there at midnight for some, they’re dead. Would they be exposed by a three-year-old?

            “How do you know that?” Zelena asks.

            “Auntie Regina and Mal said so!” Hunter proclaims, finally unwrapping the transformer and shouting, “Whoa!”

            All adult eyes fall to the pair of women, and Regina speaks up. “There must not have been enough food for Santa. He must have wanted more.”

            Cora’s eyes flit between them curiously, surely detecting something amiss; however, nobody says anything more on the subject as the kids’ attention is drawn away from the topic and towards their gifts again.

            When the kids finish opening their presents, it’s time for the adults to exchange their own. Suddenly, Regina looks over at Emma with a pointed expression.

            Zelena and Walsh are busy extracting toys from their boxes for Kelly and Hunter, the kids waiting excitedly to play with them. Cora is busy taking pictures and Henry is rooting around for presents to hand out.

            Emma stares at her confusedly, nodding for her to explain, when wrapped bundles appear in each of their laps and realization dawns on her.

            Neither woman brought anything to give to the other.

            Cora turns the camera on them, an expectant smile on her face.

            “Okay, girls, open your presents!”

            Looking down at the bundle in her lap, Emma furrows her brow.

            “I didn’t get you guys anything.”

            “That’s okay, Mal,” Cora reassures her. “You’re our guest. Henry and I just wanted to get you a little something. Open it.”

            Emma turns the package over in her hands. It’s soft, like a piece of clothing, and she realizes it’s been ages since she’s gotten a present from anyone other than Ruby or Neal.

            Carefully, she tears into the paper and pulls out the lightest, softest scarf she’s ever felt. There are splotches of black and purple on it, and she smooths out the fabric to get a better look at the design.

            The scarf is covered in dragons.

            Emma looks uncertainly at Regina, who looks up from her own present, examines Emma’s, and clarifies: “That’s a perfect gift! You _love_ dragons!”

            Meeting Regina’s eyes, Emma smiles her thanks and turns to Cora.

            “Yes, Regina’s mentioned it once or twice, so I thought this would be appropriate.”

            Emma holds it up like a prize before draping it around her neck. “Thank you so much! It’s great!”

            Cora smiles to herself, proud with her choice of gift.

            Regina opens her gift from her mother and finds a similar scarf, though the pattern is a solid black. “Black is my color,” she clarifies to Emma as she drapes it over her shoulders. Something falls into her lap as she does so, and Regina picks it up and realizes it’s an envelope. She glances inside, and Emma can’t tell what it is, but after she examines the envelope’s contents, she gives her mother a polite smile and says, “Thank you, Mother.”

            Zelena receives a green scarf and, upon opening an identical envelope, exclaims, “Oh, a spa day!” She slips out the gift certificate and waves it in the air for everyone else to see.

            “Yes, I assume you’ll benefit from it after the baby’s born.”

            “This is wonderful. Thank you so much!”

            Emma glances over at Regina. “Did you get a spa day, too?” she asks in a low voice, trying to keep Regina’s present private from the others (as Regina hadn’t revealed the contents, obviously not up for sharing) but also trying to satiate her curiosity.

            Regina turns her attention from Emma to her mother, studying the woman, and Emma can’t decipher what that means.

            “No.” That’s all Regina’s willing to give as she wraps the envelope in her scarf and settles both in her lap.

            Emma senses that she’s not meant to pry, so she doesn’t. Instead, she’s entertained by the exchanging of other gifts. Walsh gets a new shirt. The kids gift their parents, grandparents, and Regina with homemade tree ornaments. Cora and Henry marvel at their new cookware set, assuring their kids and son-in-law that it’s perfect. Hunter and Kelly run off to play with their toys, leaving the adults to exchange gifts with their significant others.

            Emma and Regina watch the events unfold in front of them, hoping their interest in the others’ gifts will distract them from realizing they had failed to give each other something.

            No such luck. After Cora admires her new wine glass from Henry, she smiles expectantly at Regina and Emma.

            “And what did you girls get for each other?”

            Emma glances nervously to Regina, who answers for them. “We decided not to exchange gifts this year. After all, it’s only our first Christmas.”

            Cora seems baffled that the two would not spoil each other, though she decides not to drag it out. “Is that so?”

            “Yes,” Emma adds. “We figured it would be easier this way.” Cora eyes her suspiciously, and Emma shifts uncomfortably in her gaze.

            Finally, “Right. Well. Zelena, what did you get?”

            As the attention turns to Zelena and Walsh, Regina and Emma share a private look of relief.

*

            They spend the day in their pajamas, and frankly, Emma’s surprised Cora even allows them to do such a thing, since the woman’s sole purpose seems to be making sure everything is absolutely perfect. Cora serves them a hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausage. Emma’s mouth waters at the meat, but Regina’s calming hand on her arm almost makes her forget that she can’t have any. When their bellies are filled, the family returns to the living room to flip on TBS’s 24-hour marathon of _A Christmas Story_.

            Emma and Regina wind up next to each other on one of the couches, and without really thinking about it, Regina’s curled into Emma’s side by the end of the movie, their legs tangling together as Emma drapes an arm over Regina’s shoulders. They barely know each other. Emma’s only known this family for three days. But in this moment, cuddling on the couch with Regina and watching Christmas movies with her family feels like the most natural thing in the world.

            Suddenly remembering her best friend over in Kansas, she pulls out her phone to chat with her:

_12/25/16 6:43am: Hey Rubes, Merry Christmas! Spilled coffee over my phone so it’s been sitting in rice_

**12/25/16 7:12am: yikes. i thought you got murdered or something. how’s the gf? ;)**

_12/25/16 11:29am: :P Not bad, everything’s going well. Can’t believe Dorothy’s aunt did that!_

**12/25/16 11:30am: neither could i. her whole family lives on a farm though, so it’s not that surprising**

_12/25/16 11:31am: How’s her family? Are they nice?_

**12/25/16 11:33am: they’re nice, but it’s like none of them have seen a lesbian before! keep getting weird questions.**

_12/25/16 11:34am: Yeah, well, at least no one’s asking you if you get tired of vaginas because you’re a gyno._

**12/25/16 11:36am: omg, did they seriously ask you that?? is that mal’s job?**

_12/25/16 11:37am: Unfortunately. Yeah. Her mom’s a trip but everyone else is pretty nice._

            The women text back and forth for a few more minutes, each relaying their own experiences in spending Christmas with someone else’s family. Before long, though, someone’s putting on another movie – the cartoon version of _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ – and Emma returns her attention to the world around her. As they watch, she draws small circles on Regina’s arm with her fingertips, thinking that this year, Christmas might not be that bad. In fact, it’s possibly the best Christmas she’s ever had. She’s spending it with a family, one that’s not perfect but at least seems to care about each other. She’s snuggling with her girlfriend (and the longer she sits there, Regina tucked into her side, the easier it becomes to pretend that their relationship is real, if even for a weekend) and eating top-notch food while surrounded by people who’ve welcomed her into their midst without a second thought.

            She catches Zelena’s eye by accident. The redhead trails her eyes over Regina and Emma’s tangled forms, meeting Emma’s eyes again with a smirk.

 _Dammit, Emma. Pull it together. You’re her_ fake _girlfriend. It’s not real._

            Reality hits her suddenly, making her blood run cold.

            And just like that, Emma’s sitting up straight and removing her arm from Regina’s shoulders. It hurts so much to do it – she wants to stay where she is, curled up with Regina snuggled into her side – but she can’t let herself get attached to a woman she’s never going to see again. And the cuddling they’re currently engaged in will only make it worse for her in the future.

            Regina shoots her a questioning look, pressing a hand to her thigh in concern, and her palm feels like an iron, burning into her thigh and the only thing she can concentrate on as Regina leans in closer.

            Emma flashes a smile at her, hoping it’s enough to stop Regina’s worrying, but it’s not.

            “You okay?” Regina asks softly.

            Wanting to avoid making a scene, Emma nods, “Yeah.”

            But Regina’s hand doesn’t leave her thigh, burning right through her sweatpants, and Emma doesn’t want to let herself enjoy a touch that technically isn’t for her. She’s not dating Regina. She barely _knows_ her. She can’t let herself enjoy something that’s definitely not going to last, so she needs to keep away from it. Regina’s touch feels so right, but they’re not really together. They can’t do this.

            But Emma needs to reassure Regina that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Technically, they’d been doing it all morning, anyway, and it helps sell their relationship. And there’s nothing particularly _wrong_ about enjoying the contact. She hasn’t cuddled with anybody since…

            She pushes the thought from her mind, simultaneously burying herself back into Regina’s arms. Yes, it’s been ages since she’s cuddled with someone, and even though she barely knows this someone, she’s damn well going to enjoy it now.

            After a while, it’s time for lunch. The family picks through the leftovers from last night and prepares their own food before joining each other at the dining room table. It’s a quick, pleasant meal, and no one eats much so that they can save room for the meal tonight.

            Afterwards, they all gather back in the living room for another movie – _Miracle on 34 th Street_ – where Emma finds her arm around Regina’s shoulders again and a gentle hand on her thigh.

            “This one’s my favorite,” Regina murmurs into Emma’s ear. Emma smiles at the admission and pays just a little more attention to the movie than she normally would.

            A buzzing in her pocket bursts their perfect domestic bubble.

            Emma pulls out her phone, heart stopping as the word _Lily_ flashes across the screen.

            “Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” she says, untangling herself from Regina and heading to another room.

            As she climbs the stairs (to get as far away from everyone else as possible), she slides her thumb across the screen to the ‘answer’ option and holds the device to her ear.

            “Hello?” she says tentatively, trying to decide between the bedroom and the bathroom. Settling for the latter, she slips inside, closes the door, and turns on the light.

            “Emma,” comes a voice she hasn’t heard in months.

            She’s still angry, can’t possibly decide what to say to the woman who’d broken her heart, so she doesn’t say anything.

            “Merry Christmas.” There’s a pause, like Lily’s waiting to see if Emma will offer her the same, but Emma doesn’t respond.

            “How – how are you doing?”

            Pissed, Emma replies, “How am I doing? How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

            “Sorry,” Lily says, and it almost seems genuine. “And I’m sorry, again, for how we left things.”

            “Hey, I’m not the one who ran off with another woman and didn’t even bother to answer my girlfriend’s calls.”

            There’s a pause, and Emma almost hears Lily wince.

            “Listen, I am so sorry…”

            “Why are you calling?” Emma interrupts.

            “What?”

            Emma takes a deep breath. “Why are you calling? Now? I haven’t heard from you in months so why are you calling me now?”

            She’s irritated, her words still filled with anger and hurt.

            On the other line, Lily audibly takes a breath.

            “I miss you.”

            Emma freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. Too stunned for words, she sits down on the toilet lid and tries to find something to say. She can’t help the way her heart warms at the admission – it’s always nice when someone admits that they miss having you around – but Lily didn’t think her presence was enough before. What changed now?

            “Bullshit.”

            “Emma, I do. I don’t know how to explain it, but… ever since we broke up, everything has gotten worse. My life, no matter what I do, is just wrong.”

            Switching her phone to her other ear, Emma brings her free hand to her forehead and massages away the beginnings of a headache. “And whose fault is that?”

            “Mine, I guess. But every time I try to do the right thing, it just blows up in my face. It’s like I’m cursed or something.”

            “Yeah, okay.”

            “It’s true. It’s like my whole life is darkness and… when you’re around, things are brighter. Emma, please, give me another chance. I miss you so much. I’m begging you. Please, take me back.”

            For a moment, Emma almost wants to say yes. Almost wants to let her back into her life. It had been so good, just the two of them – playing video games, running from their problems together or drowning them in bottles of wine and _really_ good sex.

            But then Lily had betrayed her. Lied to her, lost her trust. Run off with some woman even though she said she only had eyes for Emma. Left without saying goodbye, broke up with her through a note on the refrigerator. Emma had just been getting the pieces of her life back together when this call threw a wrench into everything. She doesn’t want to give her another chance and risk going through the same heartbreak again.

            There’s something else, too. Something tugging at her, telling her not to do it, but she doesn’t know what it is.

            Regardless of the true reason behind it, Emma follows her gut. “I don’t think so, Lily.”

            “Why not? Please, Emma, I’ll do anything.”

            Emma closes her eyes, willing herself not to give in to Lily’s begging.

            “I don’t know if there’s anything you _can_ do. You broke my heart, Lily. You betrayed me. That’s not something you just get over.”

            “Please, I’ll do better this time, I promise.”

            Even though Lily can’t see her, Emma shakes her head and swallows.       

            “I’m sorry. I’m done with you. I’m better off alone.”

            She pulls the phone away from her ear, despite Lily’s cries of protest on the other end. After a moment of hesitation, she ends the call and sits in the sudden eerie quiet.

*

            Regina wonders curiously who’s calling Emma. She hadn’t caught the name on the screen, so she’s not sure if it’s just Emma’s friend asking of her whereabouts and wishing her Merry Christmas or – Regina swallows as she thinks this – it could be a lover or ex-lover doing the same thing.

            Crossing her arms over herself, Regina shifts uncomfortably at the thought. Immediately, she shakes herself out of it. Whoever Emma’s talking to is none of her business. Of course the woman has a life outside of helping Regina; she couldn’t blame the blonde for taking the call, no matter who it had been.­­

            After a few minutes without Emma’s return, Regina decides to go looking for her and see if she’s all right.

            Purely to see if Emma’s all right and not because she wants to know about the call.

            Regina checks all the rooms downstairs, but Emma’s nowhere in sight. She climbs the staircase and goes to check the bedroom, but just as she’s passing the bathroom, the door opens and she runs straight into Emma, who carries her phone in her hand.

            “Hey,” Emma says, surprised to see her.

            “Hey.” Curiosity overcomes her, and she can’t hold her next question back. “Who was that?”

            Emma hesitates, seeming to debate her answer, before saying, “My ex-girlfriend.”

            The confession comes as a shock. Emma’s… gay? Or, Regina supposes, bisexual? It had never crossed her mind that Emma could actually be into girls. Sure, the woman’s presence here meant that she was obviously gay-friendly, but Regina hadn’t put too much thought into Emma’s sexuality or considered that she was anything but straight.

            “You like women?”

            She curses herself for floundering over her words. Stunned, Emma stares wide-eyed at her like she can’t believe Regina had assumed such a thing.

            “Well, yeah, I’m here, aren’t I?”

            Regina shakes her head and tries to clarify. “But this is different. It’s acting. You’re being paid to pretend to like me. It doesn’t really matter what you actually like, does it?”

            Emma blinks and frowns, like she’s hurt or offended at Regina’s assumption.

            “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

            Still, Emma seems bothered, and Regina wonders what she’d done wrong. Of course, she shouldn’t have made an assumption, but it wasn’t like she’d made an illogical one.

            Had she?

            Changing the subject, Regina asks, “What did she want?”

            This seems like a worse question than her previous one. Emma shrugs, mutters, “Stuff,” and tries to get past Regina.

            The brunette steps in her way and prods, “Hey. What’s wrong? What did she say?”

            Defensively, Emma crosses her arms and sidesteps Regina. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

            Concerned, Regina gently tugs on her arm to stop her from getting too far.

            “Hey.”

            Thankfully, Emma doesn’t try to go further. Not yet. Regina steps closer and meets her eyes.

            “You’ve helped me this weekend more than I can say. Let me help you. If something she said is bothering you, please tell me about it.”

            Emma again seems to host an internal debate, sighing as her eyes dart around the hall for onlookers before finding Regina’s again.

            “Us,” she replies softly. “She wanted to get back together.”

            Regina tries to ignore the way the statement bothers her and says, “Do _you_?”

            Emma shrugs and pauses to search for her next words. “I don’t know. I thought I did, before. But now… I don’t know.”

            Regina tries to prod further, definitely just so she can help Emma and not because she’s curious at all, but Emma shuts back up again, refusing to answer any more questions.

            On their way back to the living room, Cora stops them.

            “Are you two enjoying yourselves today?”

            Trying to figure out if the statement has some sort of double meaning or not, Regina nods and offers a simple answer.

            “Yes, we’re having a good holiday.”

            “Good,” Cora says with a smile. She directs her attention to Regina. “Darling, if you have a moment, I’d like you to help me with something in the study.”

            Regina glances at Emma, asking permission. Emma nods, so she answers, “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”

            Smiling and nodding at them both, Cora turns on her heel and makes her way toward the study.

            Before Regina follows her, she squeezes Emma’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

            Nodding her thanks and even offering a half-smile, Emma steps away, towards the living room where most of the family’s still watching the movie.

            Taking a deep breath, Regina heads for the study. In the envelope she’d received this morning, she found only a simple notecard informing her that part of her gift would come later. She supposes that’s why Cora’s pulling her aside now – not for help with a task, but to give her some mysterious present that couldn’t be given in front of everyone else. Regina slips into the study and shuts the door quietly behind her. Cora waits behind the desk with a smile, and Regina can only guess what her mother has in store.

            “Mother, what’s this about?”

            Cora’s smile widens, teeth showing like an animal about to devour its prey as opposed to a mother giving her daughter a Christmas present.

            “I have a surprise for you. Come.”

            So it _is_ a present, then. Cora holds out her hand to Regina, inviting her daughter to join her. With her other hand, she opens the top desk drawer and pulls out a small jewelry box.

            Regina looks down at the box with curiosity and slight trepidation. What had Mother gotten her that had to be given in secret?

            Cora holds out the box for Regina to take. As Regina lifts the red, felt box from her mother’s hand, she glances expectantly at her mother for any clues as to what’s inside.

            “Open it.”

            After one more searching look, Regina does as she’s told and carefully lifts the lid.

            Inside, embedded in smooth, soft white fabric, sits a beautiful, glittering diamond ring.

            It’s probably the biggest ring she’s ever seen up close. The princess cut diamond sits atop a silver band embedded with smaller gems, definitely much more expensive than the ring Regina had picked out for Mal. Regina lets out a small gasp and tilts it, admiring the way it twinkles in the low lamp light.

            Speechless, Regina can only look helplessly between the ring and her mother, who looks the happiest she’s been all weekend.

            “This is my gift to you and Mal. I want you to propose to her with this ring. Tonight.”


	8. December 25 – 2:15pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'M SO SORRY. I really wanted to post chapters over the holiday, but things got super crazy. I posted two chapters today, so maybe that makes up for the break in updating? Hopefully, you're still interested in the story even though Christmas is over :)
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! It means so much to know this fic was so well-received.  
> Enjoy the chapters!

Sunday, December 25, 2016 – 2:15pm

            Regina’s blood runs cold at her words, thoughts running rampant through her mind.

            She can’t propose to Emma with this ring. Emma’s not Mal, and it’s not like after this weekend Regina will be able to keep pretending that they’re engaged. She can’t accept this ring knowing that the woman to whom she’ll “give” it won’t be sticking around. Mother’s incessant need to butt into Regina’s personal life has taken a new twist, and Regina doesn’t know how this will play out in the long run, except that proposing will most definitely make everything worse.

            “Mother, I can’t accept this…” Regina begins, already moving to give it back.

            Cora mistakes Regina’s denial as modesty, her hand gently pressing the box back into Regina’s.

            “I insist. It’s the perfect timing. How could she say ‘no’ to this ring? On Christmas? Surrounded by what will be her new family?”

            “Really, Mother, I can’t –”

            “Do you love her?”

            Regina’s heart practically stops. It’s the same question her father asked her yesterday, but this time it feels heavier, like there’s more at stake, like if she answers incorrectly she’ll lose everything. Regina mulls over what to do; she can’t say no, or else the entire mission to convince Cora that they’re in love will fall apart. She can’t say yes, either, without accepting the ring and the demand that comes with it.

            “I do, Mother.”

            “Do you see a future with this girl?”

            Cora eyes her expectantly, genuinely interested in the answer. Again, Regina can’t say ‘no,’ because that will bring an onslaught of questions about why they’re even together, why she’s even meeting the family, if they don’t intend to stay together. If Regina says yes…

            “Yes, Mother, but –”

            “Then, I don’t see any reason for you to wait. If you two are meant for each other, as you say, then you should do it now. Make it official.”

            Regina looks down at the box, suddenly angry. Even if the real Mal had been here, she wouldn’t want to propose because she had her own plan. She had her own ring picked out. And yet Cora already had done everything for her. As if Regina couldn’t do it herself.

            For a moment, she considers standing up for herself, and if the real Mal were here, Regina probably would have tried, but today, she’s not willing to risk blowing their cover for an argument with her mother on Christmas Day. She has a few hours to figure a way out of this. She and Emma could even figure it out together.

            She forces a smile, defeated, and replies, “Thank you, Mother.”

            Relieved that Regina has accepted the gift, Cora smiles again, folding her daughter into a hug. “You’re welcome, my darling girl. You two will have a long and happy marriage. I can feel it.”

            And just like that, Cora brushes out of the study, her work done. In her wake, Regina stares at the ring again, muttering a soft, “Fuck,” under her breath.

            The ring is gorgeous. Perfect, even. Except Regina had already picked out a ring for Mal. And maybe the ring she had in mind isn’t as nice as the one in her hand, but at least Regina _chose_ it. This one doesn’t make her feel anything. Doesn’t give her butterflies when she thinks about someone else wearing it. Doesn’t give her hope for a future with someone else. If anything, it feels fake. Like it wouldn’t even be Regina proposing. Like any engagement with this ring wouldn’t be real.

            Perhaps the ring’s more suitable to their situation than she thought.

            Regina closes the lid with a soft _snap_ and stows it in her pajama pocket. It’s not like anything else this weekend is real. What’s one more thing added to the heap?

            An idea formulates in her mind. She could propose to Emma, and the blonde could say no. Say it’s too soon, say they’re not ready, something like that. Cora couldn’t blame Regina because Emma would have said it. Cora couldn’t get mad at Emma because she’s the guest and upsetting her daughter’s potential fiancée would contradict where she wants the relationship to go. She’d have to accept that the women just aren’t ready. Regina could give the ring back and forget about this whole mess.

            Now all she has to do is tell Emma her plan.

*

            When she gets back to the living room, she finds that Hunter has wrapped up everyone in the room – including his parents, his sister, Emma, and his grandfather – into a game of Headbandz, one of the gifts he had received this morning.

            Regina smiles to herself at how silly the adults look with their blue plastic bands strapped around their heads, a playing card inserted in its slot at their foreheads with a picture of an object waiting to be guessed.

            Currently, it’s Emma’s turn, and she’s sporting a colorful parrot on her forehead where everyone but her can see it.

            She smiles at Hunter and asks, “Can you eat me?”

            The boy chuckles at the thought of eating a parrot for dinner. “Nooo,” he answers.

            “My turn!” Kelly says excitedly, bouncing in her kneeling position on the floor. “Am I an animal?”

            A choir of “yes” answers her. She gets to ask another question.

            “What sound do I make?”

            Walsh shakes his head at her, chuckling. “Only yes or no questions, sweetie.”

            “Okay…” Kelly muses, deep in thought. Suddenly, her face brightens up. “Am I a chicken?”

            “No,” comes the automatic, unison response.

            “Daddy’s turn!” Hunter exclaims.

            Walsh is just about to ask his question when Zelena spots Regina by the archway.

            “Regina! Come play!” Zelena calls.

            Hunter and Kelly brighten up upon seeing her and bounce up and down. “Yeah, Auntie Regina!” “Come play with us!”

            Regina chuckles at her niece and nephew. “In a minute. Can I borrow Mal for a moment?”

            Emma glances up at the mention of her pseudonym and nods. “Sure, I’m coming.” She pulls herself off the floor, steps around the game, and meets Regina at the entrance of the foyer.

            “Nice card,” Regina comments with a playful grin.

            Emma pouts, “No, don’t tell me what it is! I wanna guess!”

            Rolling her eyes at Emma’s genuine interest in the children’s game, Regina leads her to the staircase. They’re just about to ascend when Cora appears, a slight twinkle in her eye.

            “Where are you ladies off to?”

            Regina glances at Emma, trying to think of an excuse.

            “Just upstairs for a moment. We won’t be long.”

            Cora gives her a pointed look – one that says she _knows_ Regina might pop the question or reveal her mother’s plan once they’re in private – and silently scolds Regina.

 _You’re supposed to do it in front of everyone_ , the look says. Regina gulps.

            “I think they’re playing a game in there,” Cora says instead, unwilling to reveal the plan or let Regina and Emma get away privately. Her eyes fly to the card on Emma’s head. “And I assume that Mal has yet to guess hers.”

            Regina tugs Emma’s hand. “We’ll only be a minute.”

            “Nonsense!” Cora insists. “This is family time. You can’t spend time with your family if the two of you run off by yourselves.”

            Glaring at her mother, Regina tries to come up with another excuse that would satisfy Cora. Coming up empty, she’s about to make a hint to the plan – maybe if Regina threatened to spill the beans right there, Cora would back off – but Emma speaks instead.

            “Actually, I have to go to the bathroom, anyways.” She lets go of Regina’s hand and looks her in the eye. There’s a meaning in the way Emma’s eyes bore into her own, like she’s trying to convey some sort of message, but Regina hasn’t known Emma long enough to even guess what it could be.

            After a few seconds of staring, Emma heads upstairs by herself, leaving Regina and Cora in the foyer. When they hear the bathroom door click shut, Cora moves in close and speaks in a low whisper.

            “Don’t do it in private. The intent was to do it so everyone could watch. Don’t you think a proposal is meant to be something that’s shared with everyone?”

            Regina shakes her head. “I’m the one doing it. Don’t I get a say in where or when I do it?”

            Cora frowns, her eyes filling with the same disappointment she wore when Regina told her she was gay. “I’m your mother. Do you really want to deny me the chance to witness one of the most important moments in your life?”

            Huffing with frustration, Regina argues quietly, “I just think it’s something that should be done a little more privately.”

            “It is private,” Cora insisted. “You’re not proposing in front of a crowd of people – just your closest family members. A group of people who care so deeply for you that they want to share in this moment with you.”

            Damn. Sometimes, talking to her mother feels like talking to a brick wall.

            “Okay, I’ll propose in front of everyone later. Can’t I just speak to her for a moment in private?”

            Cora smiles haughtily. “Do you really expect me to believe you’re not planning to say something to her?”

            Annoyed, Regina moves her hands to her hips. Then, a thought terrifies her. Does Mother… _know_? Is that why she’s trying to keep them apart? To mess with their plan?

            Regina eyes her mother suspiciously, unsure what to believe. Regardless of whether Cora’s being genuine or not, though, Regina doesn’t think she’ll get away with speaking to Emma. At least right now.

            “Fine,” she relents, descending the steps again. She’d just have to think of another way to tell Emma.

            “Oh, sweetheart,” Cora says, trying to reassure Regina by placing a hand at the small of her back, “I just want everything to go perfectly for you. You can’t be mad at me for that.”

            Pissed, but not wanting to argue with her mother in case Cora really _doesn’t_ know, Regina sets her jaw before responding, “Of course not, Mother. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome, darling.”

            The pair return to the game, where Kelly and Hunter hand each of them a card. There are only six headbands, so Regina and Cora just hold their cards above their heads.

            It’s several minutes before Emma comes back down, and Regina briefly wonders what took her so long until Emma shoots her an annoyed glare as she reenters the room.

            _Regina was supposed to follow her up to the bathroom_.

            Regina sighs when she realizes this – Emma was trying to _help_ her.

            “Auntie Regina, are you okay?” Hunter asks innocently.

            She plasters on a smile, remembering there are other people in the room. “Yes, of course, sweetheart.”

            “Okay. Then it’s your turn. Go.”

            “Okay…” Regina drawls, making a show of coming up with a question. “Am I an animal?”

            The group around her informs her that, no, she’s not an animal. Her turn passes, and Walsh moves away from Regina to make room for Emma to sit beside her. The blonde sees this and follows the unspoken instruction, settling down cross-legged beside Regina.

            They play for a few rounds. Emma laughs when she guesses the parrot, and Regina finds out that her card’s an apple. The game continues until the kids tire of it and suggest a different one. As they try to decide what’s next, Regina takes her chance.

            “I’m going to get a drink. Does anyone want anything?”

            Various family members request a beverage, and Regina turns to the kitchen.

            “Wait, I’ll help you!” Emma offers, already scrambling to her feet.

            “Walsh, why don’t you help as well?” Cora suggests.

            Emma shakes her head. “Thanks, but I think Regina and I got this.”

            “Oh, it’s no problem,” Wash insists, standing up. “I need to stretch my legs anyhow.”

            Emma gives Regina a helpless look, but Regina just shrugs, letting her know that it’s okay. They’ll figure it out.

            The three of them head for the kitchen and assemble the drinks. Emma and Regina stall, hoping Walsh will be the first to leave.

            He is. After grabbing a few glasses, he heads out the door toward the living room.

            Now’s their chance.

            “What’s up?” Emma asks the second he disappears.

            Regina waits until his footsteps get softer before answering. “I need to tell you something. Do you remember this morning, when my mother gave me an envelope and I wouldn’t tell you what was inside?”

            “Yeah,” Emma says. “Wait, what was it? She didn’t give you a spa day… was it a gift certificate for somewhere else?”

            “Not exactly, I…”

            “There you girls are,” Cora says, barging into the kitchen like she hadn’t just interrupted an important conversation. “What’s taking so long? It’s only a few drinks.”

            Regina stifles back a groan. “Nothing, Mother. We were just chatting.”

            Cora reaches for one of the glasses – filled with water, as per her request – takes a sip, and says, “Well, let’s get back in there. Kelly wants to play Twister, and these old bones can’t take that game anymore, so you two will have to play with her.”

            Regina glances at Emma, nodding to reassure her that this would be fine, they’ll get another chance to talk, and they follow Cora back into the game room.

            Panic sets in as Regina realizes that, should she stand in a precarious way, the ring box in her pocket could slip out, ruining both her mother’s plan for Regina to propose and Regina’s plan to tell Emma before it happens.

            They start the game, and at first, Regina hopes that this will be easy. Unfortunately, as colors are called, Regina finds herself getting more and more tangled, leading to some interesting positions. She ends up losing on purpose multiple times so the ring doesn’t fall out of her pocket.

            “Auntie Regina, you’re not very good at this,” Kelly announces, prompting everyone else to laugh.

            “I guess I’m not,” Regina answers, not bothered by the toddler’s assessment but worried about how she’s supposed to talk to Emma.

            After a few rounds of Twister, Cora suggests that it’s time for everyone to get dressed. This is nothing new – she’s always expected the family to change out of their PJs for Christmas dinner – but this year, Regina knows it’s even more important to Cora, given the woman’s ridiculous plan.

            Regina announces that she’s going to change – perhaps Emma could follow her up or she could leave a note in the bedroom for Emma to find – but Cora isn’t having it.

            “Actually, Regina, I could use your assistance in the kitchen. Do you mind?”

            The brunette glances between Emma and her mother, trying to decide what she should do, before grudgingly agreeing with her mother. Emma, unsure what to do, climbs the stairs to change and hides out in the bedroom for ages, hoping to catch Regina when she comes up to change as well.

            No such luck. Cora keeps Regina busy with preparing Christmas dinner – another ham accompanied by baked potatoes instead of the mashed potatoes they’d had the previous night. They work together to get everything into the ovens before Emma enters the kitchen in a red turtleneck and offers to help.

            At the blonde’s offer, Cora accepts and allows Regina to escape to change.

            The brunette obliges, still scouring for a way to communicate her plan to Emma.

            For the rest of the evening, Regina continues trying to catch Emma alone, but all of her attempts fail, either due to Cora separating them or the pair getting stuck with others in the room. Neither want to risk saying anything in front of the others, so Regina keeps quiet.

            Soon, it’s time to settle around the table for Christmas dinner, and Regina’s starting to panic. How is she supposed to tell Emma now?

            As they eat, Cora shoots Regina pointed looks, and the younger woman wonders if she’s meant to propose during dinner. She tries to disavow Cora of this idea by shaking her head or shooting her own glares. Emma – Mal – is supposed to be _her_ girlfriend; she should get to propose to her however she wants, without Cora interfering.

            Meanwhile, her nerves make her stomach churn, and she barely picks at her food. What if Cora makes her propose _right now?_ She has no way to tell Emma what to do. They’re trapped in Mother’s scheme, and there may not be a way out of it.

            Halfway through the meal, Regina feels a buzz in her pocket. She checks her phone to find a message from Ursula wishing her a Merry Christmas. Smiling, she responds in kind, before an idea pops into her head.

            Maybe she can’t _tell_ Emma, but she could text her.

            Discretely, she shoots Emma a text:

_12/25/16 6:39pm: Mother’s making me propose to you – SAY NO_

            “Regina,” Mother calls. “No phones at the table. Enjoy Christmas dinner with your family.”

            “Right,” Regina replies, tucking the device away. She glances at Emma, wondering when the blonde will check her phone.

*

            Emma feels tense as she seats herself beside the brunette.

            All day, she’s known that Regina has been trying to tell her something, most likely about their mission. She’s had this urgent look on her face, and Emma knows it has to be important. Once she realized that Regina needed to talk to her, she tried to help the brunette accomplish this, but every time they got close to being alone or communicating, something got in their way – or someone.

            Now, during dinner, she can tell how stressed Regina is, if the scarce amount of food on Regina’s plate is any indicator.

            She glances up and catches some sort of silent exchange between mother and daughter, Cora with a pointed gaze and Regina nervously avoiding eye contact by returning her attention to her plate. Cora’s eyes shift to Emma, and both women smile politely at eye contact.

            Emma glances back at Regina, who pushes corn around her plate with a spoon, and there’s _definitely_ something wrong.

            She glances around at the others eating their own dinners, engrossed in conversation and the kids sneaking their new video games under the table (Emma’s sure everyone can see them, but because of the holiday, no one’s saying anything). With everyone preoccupied, she takes a chance and ever so softly grazes Regina’s thigh with her fingertips.

            The brunette looks at her immediately upon contact. Emma shoots her what she hopes is a comforting, but questioning look. In return, Regina shakes her head, eyes like daggers, piercing and hard and nearly threatening as she mouths, “ _Don’t_.” It’s reminiscent of her glare when Emma had told her in the car only two days ago, “ _Technically, Mal_ did _flake out on you_.”

            This only confuses Emma more, but she does nothing else about it since the expression Regina gave her seemed more intense than usual. Like if Emma asks further something horrible will happen. Emma feels like someone’s dancing precariously on the line, but can’t figure out if it’s her or Regina. The looks between Cora and Regina continue, and Emma can’t quite figure it out. She only knows that there’s some understanding between the women that she’s not getting.

            A few minutes later, Cora’s scolding Regina for texting at the dinner table, and Emma narrows her eyes at the older woman. Cora seemed especially harsh – what could have gotten on her nerves?

            Another ten minutes pass and dessert gets handed out before Regina leans over and asks in an irritated whisper, “Where’s your phone?”

            It’s then that Emma realizes Regina had been texting _her_. She’s trying to get Emma a message through their phones.

            Unfortunately, Emma left hers in the living room.

            She rises from her seat to retrieve her phone, but Cora interrupts her by also standing.

            Cora gently taps her spoon against her wine glass, calling everyone’s attention to her. Emma quickly sits down and looks up at her expectantly, oblivious to how the chime feels like a dead weight in the pit of Regina’s stomach.

            The older woman smiles at her family, taking in each person’s face until she reaches Regina’s.

            “It’s always a wonderful occasion to spend Christmas with family. Each person here has a unique place in this family, and I value the way we have all come together to make this holiday special. Despite the distance between us, family is something that we all hold dear, and when we all come together, it’s like no time has passed. I feel so blessed to have shared this weekend with all of you.”

            She raises her glass to toast, and her audience reciprocates. After everyone has sipped their drink, she turns to her daughter.

            “Now, I believe Regina has a few words she’d like to say.”

            All eyes fall to the brunette aside of Emma, curious and wondering what important thing Regina had to share. Even Hunter and Kelly look up at their aunt, almost interested in what’s happening around them.

            The woman herself widens her eyes at the sudden attention, and Emma sees nothing but nervousness and fear in them. What’s Regina doing?

            She stands from her place at the table and glances around at her family, who all wait with oblivious, expectant expressions. She closes her eyes as she says, “Mal, will you join me, please?”

            Emma searches Regina’s expression again, not following her train of thought. She’d never said anything about this. They hadn’t discussed any big plans at dinner. Emma assumed the only agreement about today was to enjoy themselves.

            Which Regina doesn’t seem to be doing. She stands stiffly, waiting. When Emma doesn’t stand immediately, Regina holds out a shaking hand for Emma to take, and, blindly following orders, Emma rises to stand next to Regina. The brunette takes Emma’s other hand as well, glances around once more at her audience, and finally turns her attention fully back to Emma.

            “I’ve been… I’ve been trying to decide how to say this for a while now. You mean… you mean so much to me…”

            There’s a quiver in Regina’s voice, indicative of her nervousness. Emma gets a dreading feeling in the pit of her stomach. She _knows_ what’s coming. _Knows_ that this is how these things start. _Knows_ exactly what Regina’s about to do, but has no idea what she’s expected to do herself. They hadn’t talked about this. There had been no warning. What’s she supposed to say?

            “These past eight months have truly been the best eight months of my life. And having you here, with all of my family,” Regina turns her head again, indicating the people surrounding them and realizing again that everyone’s watching. She swallows and turns back to Emma, squeezing her hands for emphasis. “It feels like home. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Taking another deep breath, Regina drops Emma’s hands to reach into her jacket pocket and pull out a small, red box.

            Emma’s heart is pounding in her ears. She’s always dreamt of this exact moment in a thousand different ways. She’s imagined it in a fancy restaurant, with wine glasses and candles and soft background music; on a mountainside, with a fantastic view of the land below them and a soft breeze blowing across their faces; in Disney World, even though she’s never been there before, in front of the Cinderella’s magnificent castle; she’s even imagined scenarios where she or her beloved enlisted the help of their friends to hold up signs or carry out some other elaborate scheme; but she’s never imagined it like this, standing in front of a group of near strangers, pretending to be someone else, with a woman she barely knows telling her that she feels like _home_ , a place she’s never really known or felt and a statement that can’t possibly be true.

            And yet here she is, wrapped up in this false and impossible situation, and Regina’s getting down on one knee, opening the red box, and presenting the most beautiful and most expensive ring Emma’s ever seen in her life.

            Her stomach’s a mess of butterflies and uncertainties and discomfort and – somehow – some false sense of joy, because even if it’s not real, it feels like it could be, anyway.

            “Malinda Draco, will you marry me?”

            And here is where she gets the strongest, most intense stare from Regina that she’s ever received. It’s outwardly pleasant, like she’s anxiously expecting an answer, but Regina’s desperately trying to tell her something through this look, and Emma doesn’t know whether she’s supposed to say yes or no.

            Unable to read Regina’s expression, Emma lets the irreversible word slip out, barely audible if the other inhabitants weren’t deadly quiet in anticipation.

            “Yes.”

            Their audience erupts into claps and cheers, everyone rising to their seats in celebration. Emma feels a rush of excitement and making so many people happy at once, but almost immediately after uttering her answer, Emma knows she made the wrong choice.

            Regina blinks. Once, twice, then licks her lips in thought, searching for a way out, a way to stop this before it gets too far, but there is none, there’s absolutely no way to end this delicately right here and now without upsetting the same people they’re trying to fool.

            A smile that Emma can only describe as false makes its way across Regina’s face. Hopefully, it’s enough for the others, but to Emma, who knows the truth, it’s definitely not convincing.

            Regina rises, that smile still plastered across her face as she plucks the ring from its bed. Emma holds out her left hand, anxious to get this whole ordeal over with so she can run to the bathroom and take a moment for herself. She realizes she hasn’t breathed since she answered, and inhales as Regina slides the ring onto her fourth finger, the other woman’s touch electric as her fingers brush against Emma’s.

            The women stare at each other for a moment, knowing some sort of affection should be shown to convince their audience that the proposal was real.

            This time, it’s Emma who initiates the kiss. In a rush to make up for her mistake, Emma cups Regina’s cheeks, leans in, and presses her lips against dark red ones.

            Regina responds immediately, leaning in and kissing her back. She tastes of wine and lipstick, smells of cinnamon and vanilla. The kiss lasts no more than a second or two, but it feels as natural as the first.

            Emma pulls away slightly and realizes Regina’s hands have found her waist, palms against the fabric of her shirt, warmth spreading into her sides. Chocolate eyes stare at her lips, and without indication from either woman, they kiss again, longer this time.

            Then, Cora’s chuckling and calling, “There are kids in the room!” which mortifies both women to no end since they hadn’t exactly _planned_ to kiss like that. They separate a bit more and face the others, though Regina leaves a hand on her waist and Emma drapes an arm around Regina’s shoulders. Cora’s holding a camera, and Emma just _knows_ that the woman had caught several shots of the proposal, permanently recording the event for years to come.

            “Smile!” Cora demands, and Emma and Regina comply with the woman’s wishes, posing for a few shots before Cora relents and lets the others come to them.

            Henry’s the first to them, folding his daughter into a loving hug while telling her, “Congratulations.” Then, he turns to Emma, an adoring, happy smile on his face as he hugs Emma tightly and warmly. In her ear, he says softly, “I’m so happy for you. Treat her well.” As he releases her, Emma smiles and nods her head, warming upon the realization that his first response to the engagement was to make sure his daughter would be cared for.

            Zelena’s next, pushing herself up from her chair – despite Walsh’s requests for her to stay seated – and making her way to the couple.

            “Congratulations!” the redhead says, though her eyes are filled with confusion as she­ opens her arms wide to hug her sister. After a short embrace, Zelena turns to Emma with the same confused smile and pulls her in for a short, but tight hug. Then, she lifts Emma’s left hand to her eye level so she could admire the ring.

            “Wow, this a nice ring!” Zelena exclaims, throwing Regina another questioning look, though not saying any more so as to not reveal anything to the rest of the family.

            Regina gives a half smile and says, “Thank you,” while Cora beams proudly behind them, saying nothing.

            Walsh steps up next, giving Regina a brief hug and holding out a hand for Emma to shake. He smiles kindly as he says, “Congrats.”

            Hunter remains unimpressed by the whole ordeal, which Emma isn’t surprised by since he’s just a kid, but Kelly, though not quite understanding when her father tells her that Mal is going to marry Auntie Regina, gets wrapped up in the excitement and rushes to hug Regina and Emma like everyone else had.

            Cora brings up the rear. First, she hugs Emma with light arms and kisses the air near her cheek, quietly saying, “Welcome to the family, Mal. Congratulations.”

            Then, she moves to her daughter, hands on Regina’s shoulders and a genuine smile plastered on her face. “I’m so proud of you, Regina. Congratulations.” She pulls the brunette in and hugs her for a long moment. Emma can see Regina’s face over Cora’s shoulder, and for the first time in the past few hours, Regina seems almost… happy.

            The family finishes dessert with a newfound excitement, though Emma and Regina carry more tension than they had before. They need to talk, without anyone else around, and so when Regina finishes her dessert, the brunette offers to take the other empty plates to the kitchen, and Emma volunteers to help straightaway.

            Emma follows Regina through the door to the kitchen and closes it behind her. Once they make it as far away from the door as they can manage, Emma hisses, “What the _hell_ was that?”

            “You were supposed to say ‘no’!” Regina shoots back in a harsh whisper.

            “How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

            The women start to argue in hushed tones when suddenly the door opens, and both women clam right up, expecting it to be Cora come to check on their progress with the dishes.

            It’s Zelena. The redhead holds the leftover pie – her excuse to get to the kitchen, Emma presumes – and storms toward them with an angry expression.

            “What the _fuck_ is going on? Someone wanna tell me what just happened back there?”

            Regina crosses her arms and softly replies, “Mother happened.”

            Emma and Zelena listen intently as Regina explains the situation, their expressions increasingly more shocked as Regina recalls how Cora pressured her to propose and how she had tried hopelessly to warn Emma before dinner.

            “That’s fucked up,” Emma declares when Regina’s finished.

            “You think I don’t know that?”

            “Why would she even do that?” Zelena asks, putting the pie back in the refrigerator.

            Regina shrugs. “Are you really surprised? It’s Mother we’re talking about.”

            This seems to be enough for Zelena, who shrugs and makes her way to a nearby chair.

            Suddenly, Zelena winces, and her hands fly to her protruding stomach.

            Immediately, Regina’s at her sister’s side. “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a false contraction. It’ll pass.” Zelena keeps moving until she reaches her destination, plopping down in the chair with a soft huff. After another moment, the pain disappears from her face, and she’s back to normal. Regina’s still watching her, worry evident, but Zelena insists, “I’m fine. Really. It’s you two we’ve got to worry about.”

            Emma crosses her arms. “What are we gonna do now?”

            “I don’t know,” Regina says, one hand pressed to her forehead and the other resting on her hip.

            Zelena’s gaze flits between the two of them. “It’s obvious isn’t it?”

            Emma and Regina look at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

            Smiling, Zelena elaborates. “You’re just going to have to pretend to be engaged. After the holidays are over, just tell Mother you’ve called it off.”

            Regina licks her lips, sighs, and looks at Emma. It’s truly obvious, but neither woman had agreed to this beforehand. It wasn’t part of the plan to pretend to be engaged, but somehow Emma has a ring on her finger and its weight is… overwhelming.

            “I can’t ask you to do that.”

            Emma shrugs, resigned. “Why not? I mean, it can’t be that much different, can it? Just keep doing what we’re doing and hopefully it’ll be enough.”

            Regina gives her a wavering look. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

            Nodding, Emma replies, “Of course. I wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t.”

            Regina nods, though whether it’s in agreement of the plan or to reassure herself, Emma has no idea. “Okay. Then I guess we’re engaged.”

            Emma holds out her hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s go help them clean up.”

            “Call me babe again and I’ll end you.” The threat lacks its punch, though, as Regina takes Emma’s hand and laces their fingers together.

            As they reenter the dining room, they fail to see Zelena’s entertained smile.


	9. December 25-26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I uploaded two chapters today, so make sure you go back and read Chapter 8 first! :)

Sunday, December 25, 2016 – 7:02pm

            After dinner and dessert has been cleaned up, they move to the living room, where Henry lights the fireplace before disappearing. The other adults settle around the couches, Zelena and Walsh cuddling on one while Regina and Emma take the other, and wine is poured. Hunter and Kelly try to convince Cora to play another board game with them, but when Henry returns with his black instrument case, their attention instantly focuses on him.

            Henry smiles as he opens his case and readies his instrument, the kids hopping up and down beside him in excitement. Hunter requests, “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town,” and Henry obliges, his fingers easily passing over the keys as he plays.

            Kelly and Hunter make several more requests, singing and dancing to each one, before growing tired and climbing onto the couch with their parents. Henry starts in on “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” In the armchair, Cora nurses a glass of wine, eyes closed and head tipped back. Her lips curl into a small, content smile as she listens to her husband’s music.

            Emma twists the ring around her finger. There’s no way Cora could have known her ring size, but it fits perfectly. She examines the diamonds in it and wonders just how much money she’s wearing on her hand right now.­­

Stretching her arm along the back of the couch, she hesitates before lowering it to Regina’s shoulders, and for a moment, she lets herself imagine it’s real.

            She imagines what it would be like to be married. To have someone waiting for her to come home, to have someone to cuddle with at night. What it would be like to find her spouse cooking on the stove, to sneak behind them and wrap her arms around them. What it would be like to be married to _Regina_. To find the brunette waiting in their bed for her. To pamper and care for her when she’s sick and vice versa. To stay like this, knowing that this snuggling wouldn’t have to end…

            _This is too ridiculous_ , she thinks, trying to stop herself from continuing. _You barely know this woman_. _You’re not_ really _engaged to her. After this weekend, you may never even see her again. Why would you think about marrying her?_

            But the thing is, Emma can’t stop the thoughts from entering her mind. Once she starts imagining such comfortable, domestic scenes, she can’t forget about them.

            And the fact that Regina’s currently curled into her side doesn’t help either.­

            Henry starts to play “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” and the scene feels almost too perfect. She’s not thinking about Regina at all – not about her warm, soft hands or about being closer to the woman – as she stands from the couch and offers a hand to her pretend fiancée. She’s only thinking about how well it would sell their relationship if the newly engaged women danced to Henry’s music.

            Hesitantly and shyly, Regina takes her hand. Emma pulls her up, leads her to an open place in the room, and places two strong hands at her hips. Regina responds by wrapping slender, olive arms around the blonde’s neck and pressing herself closer to Emma’s body. Slowly, the women sway from side to side in time with the saxophone’s notes.

            Emma tries not to think about Regina’s warm torso against her chest, or how, as Regina’s head effortlessly finds her shoulder, the brunette softly hums along to the music. She tries only to think of selling their relationship, of pretending to be happy, but it’s hard to draw a line when her rapid heartbeat speeds up on its own or the smile on her face slips there naturally.

            When the song finishes, the women continue to sway silently as papers shuffle.  Henry begins another tune – “White Christmas” – and they fall into step easily.

*

            That night, as they’re getting ready for bed, Emma throws on an old, oversized marching band T-shirt.

            “What instrument?” Regina asks, motioning to the shirt.

            “Tenor sax,” Emma replies, a knowing smile on her lips as it registers with Regina that the instrument is the same one her father had been playing only hours ago.

             “Clarinet,” Regina whispers as Emma climbs into bed. Emma’s eyes light up when she realizes Regina had been in high school marching band, too.

            They fall asleep several inches apart, facing each other.

            “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

            “Merry Christmas, Regina.”

 

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 7:34am

            The next morning, Regina wakes feeling warm and peaceful.

            Sunlight filters into the room through the curtains; she can feel the soft light against her eyelids. She lies blissfully and comfortably on her bed; it’s been weeks – months, even – since she’s woken up like this.

            As her other senses start filtering in, she realizes that the warmth comes from only one side of her. She shifts slightly, and when she realizes her position, her eyes snap right open.

            Emma’s curled up around her, pressed into her right side with an arm draped casually across her stomach, head resting comfortably on her chest. Blonde hair spreads across the sheets, tickling the tip of Regina’s chin. Wiggling her toes, she realizes their legs are also intertwined. Her heart pounds in her chest as she takes in the other woman, snuggled so close to her, clearly… content.

            A blush creeps up her back and chest as Regina discovers the cuddling isn’t entirely one-sided. She notices her arms wrapped around Emma’s body, holding the blonde to her without being told to. The most terrifying part of it all? She finds she actually _enjoys_ the feel of Emma’s body against hers, the innocent touches filling her with warmth.

            All Regina would have to do is tilt her head slightly and her lips could reach Emma’s crown. She could tighten her hold on Emma and pull them closer together. She even could move her arm and thread their fingers together if she wanted.

            Her desire to stay within Emma’s arms scares her, and reality crashes into her all at once as she realizes that any of these choices would be crossing a line. They’re not _really_ together. This… whatever they are doing right now… only happened accidentally, in their sleep. Now that Regina’s awake, she can’t blame their continued contact on their unconscious minds.

            A sudden urgency to disconnect them fills her. She’s allowed the contact for far too long, anyway. What will Emma say if she wakes up to them cuddled like this? She has to slip out of Emma’s reach. She has to put an end to this damn _domestic_ feeling from their proximity. Emma’s just here to get paid. After they’re done here, both will go back to their normal lives and they’ll forget all about this weekend.

            But Regina finds it difficult to let go. She doesn’t want to leave Emma’s grip. Doesn’t want to separate from the woman she’d gotten to know over the past few days.

            _Get a grip_ , Regina tells herself. _Emma doesn’t_ want _you. Emma doesn’t want to wake up cuddled next to a near-stranger_.

            But they’re not near-strangers. Not anymore. They’ve gone through so much throughout these past few days that _near-stranger_ doesn’t feel like an appropriate description of their relationship anymore.

            Except if that word doesn’t fit, then what does?

            Regina decides it’s not important. Right now, the most important thing is that she gets herself out of Emma’s arms and into a cold shower. But how can she escape? Emma’s practically on top of her, certain to wake up should she move even a little bit.

            She remembers the technique she’d seen on the TV show Friends – the one that Ross showed Chandler so the two could coax their girlfriends onto their own sides of the bed and leave plenty of room for themselves. The… what was it called? The Roll-Over Technique?

            _No, the Hug N’ Roll!_

            She remembers Ross demonstrating the move by squeezing a large pillow to himself, rolling forward, leaving the pillow behind, and rolling back over to his side, the pillow safely away from him.

            _This could work_ , Regina muses, realizing Emma’s current position is exactly like the pillow had been on TV. All Regina has to do is roll the blonde to the other side of the bed, then – without Emma – roll back to her own side.

            Briefly, Regina wonders if she should hug the blonde. Would it really be helpful to move closer together in order to get farther apart? Then again, it might be easier to roll Emma over if they’re closer – the blonde might not notice that she’s even being moved.

            _Hugging it is then_ , Regina decides. She hesitates, waiting to be sure that Emma’s asleep – it’d be much less embarrassing if Emma woke up before or after the move (even if they _are_ cuddling) than during it, when their bodies are even closer.

            With a sudden boost of courage, Regina squeezes her arms tighter around Emma, hugging the blonde to herself, and slowly begins to roll.

            And damn, it feels so good, _so good_ to have someone this close to her, to have _Emma_ this close to her, but it’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Emma doesn’t even like her, isn’t _really_ dating her, and therefore this position they’re in could never, ever happen naturally.

            Except it did.

            The blonde barely stirs as they move, and, carefully, Regina eases her back to the other side of the bed.

            They’re chest to chest now, so close together that their breaths mingle together. Emma’s lips are barely an inch from hers, even the tiniest movement would…

            Emma’s eyelashes flutter. She’s on the verge of waking up.

            Quickly, Regina slides Emma’s arm from her back and lays it on the sheets. Free, Regina rolls backwards, away from Emma’s warm, warm body and towards the safety of her own side of the bed.

            Emma stirs, more pronounced this time, and Regina realizes her other arm is trapped beneath Emma’s body.

            _Shit_ , Regina thinks, wondering how on earth she’s supposed to slip her arm out before Emma wakes up without leaving a trace behind.

            _It’s now or never_. Without another thought, Regina tugs her arm to herself quickly, like pulling a tablecloth out from beneath several glass place settings or ripping off a band-aid.

            She overestimates the amount of force needed, though, and ends up sprawling herself backwards, over the edge of the mattress, and onto the wooden floor below.

            Wincing at the impact, Regina checks herself over quickly to make sure she wasn’t injured.

            Emma, on the other hand, bolts upright from her spot on the bed and peers over the edge, sleep overpowering the panic in her voice as she asks, “R’gina, you okay?”

            Sheepishly verifying that she is, indeed, okay, Regina pulls herself to her feet. “Yes, I’m fine.”

            “What were you doing?” Emma asks curiously, wiping sleep from her eyes.

            Regina licks her lips nervously and retrieves her robe. “Must have rolled a little too far.”

            Emma frowns, not quite believing the story, and then realization flickers across her face. “Were we… cuddling?”

            Freezing with one arm halfway through the sleeve of her robe, Regina knows there’s no denying what they had been doing. Emma had to have felt Regina’s arm disappearing from beneath her.

            “Yes,” Regina answers tentatively, willing the blush forming in her chest not to reach her cheeks. “My arm was stuck beneath you and I tried to get it out without waking you. Sorry.”

            “No, I’m sorry. I’m the one who was laying on your arm.”

            “Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

            Awkwardly, they let a short silence settle before Emma announces she needs to use the bathroom.

            Regina nods as Emma leaves and seats herself on the side of her bed again, reaching for her phone and scrolling through texts and emails.

            Today, her agenda is blank. There’s nothing to buy, nothing to prepare; the only expectation she has for today is to spend time with her family. And Emma.

            She glances up at the door when she thinks of Emma, her heart warming as she waits for the blonde to come back in.

            Realizing what she’s doing, Regina scolds herself. Emma isn’t _anything_ to her. Why the fuck is she sitting there with a dopey smile, waiting for the blonde to return from the freaking bathroom?

            She thinks of how they’d kissed last night after the proposal, how they’d slow-danced so close to each other as Henry played his sax, how they’d woken up this morning cuddled together under the sheets. She thinks of how happy she’d felt during each instance, and, with a start, realizes she has feelings for the blonde.

            Instantly, she turns on herself. How shallow does that make her? It’s only been a week since she and her girlfriend broke up – she should be thinking of _Mal_ , not some girl she barely knows. She should be missing her girlfriend of eight months. Regina had been ready to marry her – so why isn’t she more heartbroken? Why is it this easy to insert Emma into her life and pretend that everything’s fine? Why isn’t she waiting for Mal to apologize and come back?

            Her next realization makes her sick: she’s _not_ waiting for Mal to come back. She couldn’t care less if Mal even apologized, at this point. The very thought of Mal makes her skin crawl. But it shouldn’t be like this. She _should_ be waiting for Mal. She should _want_ her ex-girlfriend – the woman she’d loved more than anyone else – back in her life. And she does. Kind of.

            Regardless of how she feels about Mal, it’s not fair to keep pressuring Emma into romantic situations if Regina’s developed feelings for her that can’t possibly be reciprocated. Emma has her own baggage: an ex-girlfriend who’d called her yesterday asking to get back together. And though Emma seemed wary about it, Regina’s sure that Emma and this mystery girl could fix their problems and get back together. There’s no place for her in Emma’s life. And Regina can’t possibly wait for Mal if she’s developing feelings for someone else – a complete and total stranger.

            So as Emma’s coming back from the bathroom, Regina pulls her back into the bedroom, shuts the door, and starts digging through her own luggage.

            Ignoring the urge to keep quiet, Regina forces the words out. “You need to go.”

            Caught off-guard, Emma can only shake her head in surprise. “What?”

            As much as it pains her to stop this… fantasy, this dream-land they’ve been living in, by sending Emma away, she finds the white envelope in her bag and holds it out for Emma to take.

            “Here.”

            Tentatively, as if she already knows what’s inside and what Regina giving this to her means, Emma accepts the envelope and opens it curiously. “What’s this?”

            “Your payment. In full.”

            Emma looks from the envelope to Regina, confused and… Regina’s not sure what else.

            (She is. She recognizes the emotion but doesn’t want to acknowledge it.)

            “Why are you giving this to me now?”

            Regina stiffens, hiding behind her mask to avoid getting emotional. “You’ve done more than enough for me over the past few days and helped me more than I can say. I can’t ask anything more of you. I can’t expect you to stay and play house with me and my family any longer.”

            Emma shakes her head, and this time Regina can’t deny the disappointment that flashes across her face. “Regina, I –”

            “Keep it. You deserve it.” Regina can’t bear to look at Emma any longer and turns away. “The next bus leaves at ten. It’ll take you straight to Boston. I’ll tell Mother that we had a fight. The engagement was too early and neither of us were ready for that kind of commitment.”

Silence settles over them, and Regina waits for Emma to respond, wondering if the blonde will even have anything to say.

            Finally, “I don’t understand. I thought everything was going well.”

            “It… it was,” she relents. It _has_ been going well. Too well. “I just… Mother has already been so forceful this weekend. I have a feeling she’s only going to get worse.”

            “So? We can handle her together.”

            “It’s not just that. I don’t want her – or anyone else, for that matter – to get too attached to you.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Regina hesitates, and Emma holds her breath in anticipation. “My family… especially Mother… the longer you spend time with them, the more they’ll get attached to you – the more they’ll like you. And the more they like you, the harder it will be to tell them we broke up.”

            Emma watches Regina’s eyes as they dart around the room, trying to look anywhere else but at the woman she’s trying to send away. Emma’s not sure, but she thinks there’s some other reason that Regina’s kicking her out. Had Emma stepped over some line of privacy?

            “Is it because we were cuddling this morning?”

            “No, no!” Regina denies. “It’s – it’s not like that at all. I just don’t want anyone to get too attached to you.”

            Frustrated, Emma tries to figure out why Regina’s doing this. They haven’t been compromised – Regina’s excuse for her mother told her that much – so what then? Why has Regina suddenly decided that Emma should leave?

            “Well, shit, what’d you think would happen? When people spend time together, they generally end up liking each other. Did you think that if you brought me, they’d just forget about me afterwards?”

            As she says the words, she remembers that that was always the plan. Of course, she knew that she’d never come back here, that Regina’s family wasn’t supposed to think about her ever again, but that was before she started to get to know them. The reality of what they were doing to the Mills family didn’t really sink in until she felt like, for once in her life, she belonged somewhere.

            Obviously, Emma feels guilty for deceiving Regina’s family, but she knew this going in. She was prepared to hang out with people she’ll never see again. She was prepared to show up, leave, and never come back. Sure, she hadn’t prepared to develop these… _feelings_ for Regina, but that’s on Emma. She’s not going to abort the plan due to her own damn hormones. Regina’s the one who’ll have to deal with this in the long-term. It’s her plan. She should have thought about the effect her plan would have on her family before now.

            And the kicker, what sends Emma over the edge, is that now, whether because of the reason she mentioned or something else, Regina’s dropping her without warning. Regina isn’t planning to think about her after this, and that hurts.

            “Of course they’re gonna want to get to know me. Of course they’re gonna want to spend time with me. _They think I’m your girlfriend._ ”

            Regina shushes her, and Emma realizes she’d almost been shouting due to her anger.

When Regina doesn’t say anything, Emma adds, “What, you’re just now realizing the consequences of your _brilliant_ plan?”

            Defensive, Regina crosses her arms and fires back, “You agreed with it!”

            “Because you were desperate and I needed the money.”

            “But if you knew that this would happen, why are you getting mad now?”

            “Because _you_ didn’t! You didn’t know! You never even thought about it! You just assumed that if you brought a little piece of arm candy along that everything would be fine!”

            “Yes, and now that I realize what we’ve done, I’m trying to fix it.”

            “Fix it how? We’re going back tomorrow. Twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a difference to your family. If they’re already attached, then me leaving now instead of tomorrow isn’t going to make a difference.”

            Regina hears the double meaning in her words, even if Emma doesn’t realize she’s even saying it.

            “Emma, I –”

            “No, you know what? I’m out of here. You want me gone, I’m gone.”

            Storming past Regina, Emma starts throwing random belongings into her duffel.

            “Emma,” Regina starts again.

            “Just leave me alone, Regina. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

            As Emma aggressively packs her things, Regina watches with guilt. She feels horrible that she’d made Emma so upset and wants to calm her down, wants to reassure her, but she’s at a loss for words. How’s she supposed to calm Emma down when she’d been the one to make her angry in the first place? How’s she supposed to reassure her if she’s still planning to send Emma away afterwards?

            They’ll never talk again, anyways. It’s not like they’re planning to keep in touch after this fiasco, so it’s not like Emma’s opinion of Regina really matters in the long run. Regina hates leaving things like this, but it’s clear that Emma’s made up her mind and nothing Regina says will be able to fix this.

            So Regina leaves the room, allowing Emma to pack her things and fume.

            She goes downstairs to find her family around the kitchen island, eating breakfast. This time, she doesn't take the scrambled eggs her father offers, no matter how delicious they smell. Instead, she pours herself a black coffee, grabs an orange, and perches herself onto the stool next to Kelly.

            Nobody notices Emma creeping down the stairs or slipping out the front door.

 

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 7:59am

            When Regina returns to the bedroom, Emma’s gone. The black duffel on Emma’s side of the bed has disappeared, and the engagement ring sits on Regina’s nightstand, sunlight reflecting in the big diamond at its center.

            She crosses the room to pick it up, surprised to feel disappointment as opposed to relief. Quite suddenly, she wishes she hadn’t told Emma to leave. A piece of her had wanted Emma to stay, had hoped that the stubborn blonde would have stayed despite everything Regina said, but Emma left without another word.

            She shouldn’t feel such a loss at Emma’s absence, but as she holds the ring between her fingers and twirls it in the light, she feels nothing but an ache in her heart.

            A knock sounds behind her, and she lights up in the hope that Emma hasn’t left yet, that she’d say goodbye or even decide to stay. But it’s not Emma.

            Zelena furrows her brow as she rubs her stomach and plops herself down on the edge of Regina’s bed.

            “Where’s Emma?”

            Regina folds the ring into her palm and stows it in her pajama pocket.

            “Gone.”

            Zelena, positively baffled, exclaims, “What?”

            Shushing her in fear that someone else would hear, Regina quickly closes the door and returns to her sister.

            “I gave her the money. I told her she could leave.”

            Zelena’s face scrunches even more.

            “Why would you do that?”

            Regina shrugs, unable to explain how much it hurts to be so close to someone she can’t have, someone she’s fallen for but who certainly hasn’t fallen for her.

            “She did her job. I couldn’t ask her to stay any longer.”

            Zelena leans back, still shocked. “But the weekend isn’t over yet.”

            Without answering right away, Regina crosses to the closet and searches for an outfit to wear for the day.

            “I don’t need her anymore.”

            Not understanding what that’s supposed to mean, she switches focus. “You mean you just told her to go?”

            “Yes. I’m going to tell Mother that the engagement was too early, neither of us were ready for that kind of commitment, and Mal wanted to leave.”

            Behind her, Zelena shakes her head, unable to accept what’s happening. “And that couldn’t wait until next week, when you can tell her over a phone call?”

            Regina passes over a black blouse and compares a grey dress to a blue dress. She thinks about which one Emma would like better. The blue dress would be warmer, more appropriate for the cold weather, but the grey dress showed more of her skin.

            “Don’t question me about a plan that has nothing to do with you. This is between me and Emma.”

            Instead, she goes back to the black blouse, deciding it would fit her mood better at the moment. Sure, she’s being dramatic, but who the hell cares at this point? She pulls out the shirt and lays it on the bed next to Zelena before rummaging through her suitcase for some slacks to go with it.

            “So she just left?”

            Shrugging, Regina picks out a pair of red pants and drops them on top of the blouse.

            “And you’re okay with that?”

            Regina kneels down next to her shoes, trying to decide on an appropriate pair and unwilling to look at Zelena. Doing so would likely reveal her real feelings, since the redhead would be able to spot them from a mile away.

            “I gave her the money, didn’t I?”

            She contemplates wearing her black heels, but it’s not like she’ll be seeing anyone besides family today, so instead she opts for black flats. When she turns back to Zelena, the redhead’s jaw falls open.

            “What the fuck?”

            Ignoring her sister, Regina moves to gather the rest of her clothes to change into, but Zelena picks up the red pants and holds them close to her chest.

            “What the actual fuck?” she repeats.

            Regina huffs. “Can I please have my clothes?”

            “No!” Zelena argues, jerking away from her as much as possible with her rounded belly. “How can you be so calm about this?”

            “I don’t know what you mean.”

            Zelena rolls her eyes and leans forward, as if her next point were clear as day. “Please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the chemistry between the two of you.”

            Regina furrows her brow. Sure, she may have developed some feelings for the blonde, but since when did that mean Emma felt the same way?

            “What on earth are you talking about?”

            Exasperated, Zelena huffs and elaborates, “You idiot. You two have eye sex almost every time one of you walks in the room. When you’re making up some bullshit story or covering for each other, it’s like you’ve been on the same team for years. The two of you complement each other in every way.”

            Regina shakes her head, unwilling to believe something so hopelessly naïve. She knows how Emma looks at her. And they most certainly do _not_ have eye sex.

            Even though maybe sometimes Regina mentally undresses Emma or at least studies her assets appreciatively. But she’d definitely notice if Emma were doing the same thing.

            Huffing, Regina stalks towards her suitcase to pick out a pair of black slacks instead.

            “Regardless of what I might have said the other night, there’s no way Emma feels the same way.”

            “You can’t know that unless you try.”

            Regina can barely hold back her anger at Zelena for meddling in things she shouldn’t. What makes her love life any of Zelena’s business anyway?

            “Go get her back. You could still have a chance with her.”

            She almost wants to. She almost wants to chase after the blonde and stop her from leaving. Maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time she wouldn’t get left behind.

            But there’s no way Emma would want to be here, not after the fight they’d had and the things she’d said. “Zelena, I _paid_ her to be here. She was here for the money, not for me. No one in their right mind would come back after they got their end of the bargain. I can’t make her come back.”

            Zelena’s gaze hardens, “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

            She pushes herself off the bed and waddles downstairs, muttering, “Why do I have to do everything myself?”


	10. December 26 – 8:16am

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 8:16am

            The snow crunches beneath her feet as she walks, and the cold bites at her exposed cheeks and nose, but her boiling anger is enough to keep her warm against the freezing temperature.

            She shouldn’t be mad. Technically, she’d been let go early, and Regina even gave her the agreed amount, paid in full. In essence, she’s getting more for less. And really, the plan was to forget about the Mills family as soon as she walked out the door, no matter what had happened inside. Her job in Storybrooke is finished. She should be happy.

            Except she’s not. She doesn’t understand how losing Regina could hurt this much.

            She’s known the woman for all of, what, three days? Before that, they were practically strangers. She’d been just fine without Regina before, so why does she feel like there’s something missing now?

            She contemplates going back, but realizes there’s no point. Regina’s probably already told Cora about their ‘break-up,’ so showing her face at the house again would make things even more complicated. And she doesn’t want to make things worse for Regina.

            _She doesn’t want you there anyway_ , Emma thinks. _She told you to_ leave. _Just do what she wants you to do and get out of this town. Don’t stay where you’re not wanted_.

            Emma’s halfway to the bus station when a green SUV pulls up alongside her and slows to her heated pace. Wondering who the hell is stalking her, she glances up at the vehicle and recognizes a head of wild red hair in the driver’s seat.

            “Zelena?”

            “Emma Swan, you get your _ass_ back to that house.”

            She wasn’t expecting _that_. How does Zelena even know her last name? Her head rears back in surprise at the woman’s tone of voice and she almost stops walking.

            But then she remembers Regina. Remembers how the brunette didn’t try to stop her from leaving. Remembers _‘I just… don’t want anyone to get too attached to you_.’

            Remembers Regina kicking her out without warning and without regret.

            “Regina doesn’t want me there,” she shoots back, trudging on.

            Zelena keeps with her pace, glancing between her and the road, and mumbles to herself, “God, with that level of stubbornness, you two are made for each other.”

            Louder, she asks the blonde, “Are you really that oblivious?”

            Emma rolls her eyes. “Oblivious to what? She told me herself. ‘You need to leave. I can’t handle this. Blah, blah, blah.’” She mimics Regina’s voice bitterly, seething with anger.

            “And you think that’s _actually_ how she feels?”

            “Well, yeah. If she felt any differently, she would have stopped me from leaving. She wouldn’t have told me to go in the first place.” Emma crosses her arms, turning down another street and momentarily frustrating Zelena as the redhead adjusts her driving to follow her.

            “Okay, but the minute you left, she regretted it.”

            Scoffing, Emma shoves the tiny spark of hope that Regina cares about her back down. Regina doesn’t miss her. Regina doesn’t care about her. She’d said so.

            “No, she didn’t,” Emma argues. “She doesn’t miss me.”

            “Yes, she does! I’m telling the truth!”

            Emma stares straight ahead, afraid to look towards Zelena and know she’s telling the truth.

            “No, you’re not,” she argues instead. “Regina can’t care about me. She threw me out without a second thought. Basically told me to leave and never come back.”

            They quiet as a small family passes them on the sidewalk. Even when they’re out of earshot, neither woman speaks. Zelena only continues to follow Emma, and Emma pushes on, wanting to get to the bus stop in time to buy her ticket and leave this stupid town.

            Zelena says something, but Emma’s so startled she needs her to repeat it.

            “What?”

            Smirking, Zelena repeats, “You love her, don’t you.”

            It’s not a question. More of a statement, like Zelena’s been watching them all weekend and come to her own conclusions. What gives her the right to suggest Emma cares at _all_ for Regina, let alone _loves_ her?

            “No, of course not,” Emma bites. “We _just_ met. You can’t fall in love with someone in a weekend.”

            They come to the intersection before the bus station. Emma crosses the street while Zelena pauses at the stop sign and catches up to her.

            “Then why do you care so much? If this was just a job to you, you wouldn’t be so angry.”

            And fuck, Zelena’s right. She’s _so_ right. If Emma didn’t care about Regina, she wouldn’t be making a big deal out of this. She’d be _happy_ she got paid. _Happy_ that it’s a day early. _Happy_ that Regina had thought far enough ahead to include money for a bus ticket to Boston in addition to her pay.

            The situation should be perfect, but it’s not.

            Because Emma does care about Regina.

            But she can’t tell Zelena that. Not when Regina doesn’t give a shit about her. Not when Regina ruined everything by telling her to leave.

            “Why do you even care?” she challenges instead. “Shouldn’t you be happy that this whole thing is over? Shouldn’t you be glad that the stranger’s out of your parents’ house?”

            “I _care_ ,” Zelena shouts, “because I want my sister to be happy. And when you’re with her, I know she is.”

            Emma’s stomach warms at the thought that she’d made Regina even a little happy this weekend. That on at least one occasion, _Emma_ – not someone else – had made Regina happy.

            “Yeah, well, she doesn’t want me back there. I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.”

            Zelena sighs, exasperated. They’ve reached the bus station, Emma standing just outside the door and Zelena idling on her other side.

            “Just get in the car, Emma. She wants you there, I promise.”

            Crossing her arms, Emma shuffles against the cold. She could turn right now, go back to Boston, and never think of Regina again, or she could turn left, climb into Zelena’s car, and take a chance for something with Regina.

            As Emma eyes the bus station, she knows that going back to Boston won’t make her forget about the amazing woman she’d gotten to know this weekend. Going to Boston won’t erase her thoughts of Regina’s hand on her knee or Regina’s arm linked with hers or Regina’s body pressed against hers in their morning haze.

            “Fuck it,” she mumbles, opening the passenger door.

            Zelena grins in relief as Emma buckles herself in.

            “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

            As Zelena turns the car around towards the house, Emma mutters, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

*

            Regina finds Cora in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. She approaches cautiously, bracing herself for whatever criticism is about to come.

            Cora glances up at her arrival, and when Regina doesn’t say anything, Cora studies her forlorn face and wringing hands and immediately knows something’s up.

            “Where’s Mal?” she questions.

            Regina swallows her fear, finding her voice. “She went home.”

            Confusion clouds Cora’s face. “What do you mean, she went home?”

            Fumbling for words, Regina stutters, “We… we had a fight.”

            “Oh, Regina, what did you do this time?” Cora shakes her head, puts down the tea towel she’d been holding, and places her hands on her hips, giving her the overall appearance of a scolding parent.

            “What did I do? You’re the one who made me propose!”

            Cora shrugs. “And what’s wrong with that?”

            Regina licks her lips. She has to stick to her guns. Emma’s gone, and there’s no turning back from this. “It was too soon. I tried to tell you that neither of us were ready, but…”

            “Oh, you two are ready. I can tell by the way you look at each other.”

            “What…?” Regina stares dumbfounded as Cora smugly crosses to the stove and wipes it off with a rag. Does Cora _also_ think she and Emma have eye sex? Her cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

            Wringing out the washcloth in the sink, Cora asks over her shoulder, “So, how are you going to fix this?”

            “Fix this?” Blinking, Regina glances around to see if this is some sort of joke. “She’s gone, I can’t _fix_ this…”

            Cora leaves the rag in the sink, picks up a glass of water from the island, and approaches Regina. “You still have her _number_ , don’t you? Call her, work things out.”

            Regina shifts uncomfortably, searching for words to steer her irrational mother away from the idea that she and Mal could still be together. “I –”

            Suddenly, Zelena barges through the kitchen door, trailed by a hesitant Emma. Zelena cheerily throws her arms in the air, announcing, “Look who I found!”

            As the redhead steps out of the way and plops down in a nearby chair, Emma sheepishly steps forward.

            Regina shakes her head. Emma didn’t _really_ come back, did she?

            She wants to both kill and hug Zelena for this.

            “Um… Mal,” Regina stumbles, indicating to Emma that Cora doesn’t know the truth and their charade can still go on. “What are you doing here?”

            Emma shifts her feet, scratching the back of her neck. Looking down at the floor, she admits, “I might have overreacted.” _For example, by leaving hastily in anger._

            Regina nods. “And I… might have said some things I shouldn’t have.” _Like that you needed to go in the first place_.

            Emma nods her own acceptance, and both women are aware of their audience as Emma asks, “So… are we still on?”

            Sending a relieved _thank you_ into the universe, Regina smiles and, trying not to seem too excited, nods again.

            “We’re still on.”

            For a moment, both women stare at each other, trying to convey their apologies through their eyes and relief through their smiles. Zelena and Cora watch amusedly, Zelena proud for being right about them and Cora pleased that the engagement is still intact.

            It’s Zelena’s “Are you guys going to kiss and make up, or are you just going to stand there staring at each other?” that breaks them out of their trance.

            This time, they don’t even hesitate.

            Regina reaches for the unzipped edges of Emma’s jacket and pulls the woman closer, and Emma’s hands fall onto her waist almost naturally. (Emma’s heart skips a beat when she realizes how easy it is to fall into this position.) They lean in, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller, before Regina closes it, pressing her lips against Emma’s cool, chapped ones.

            As they kiss, Regina tries to put as much _I’m-sorry-for-pushing-you-away_ and _I-want-you-here_ into the kiss as possible. She’d hurt Emma, and yet the blonde had still shown up for more. Regina decides she won’t mess this up again, and tries to convey that to Emma as her lips brush against hers.

            In response, one of Emma’s hands slides to Regina’s back, pressing the woman closer to her. She doesn’t want to leave. She wants _this_ , and maybe somehow, despite this whole convoluted mess, she can _have_ this.

            Regina’s hands slide to Emma’s neck, holding her in place while her lips move against Emma’s. As the seconds pass and the kiss extends, both women realize that this is the first _real_ kiss they’ve shared. More electric than the first two, this kiss isn’t just about convincing others – it actually _means_ something to both of them. It’s for Regina and Emma as much as it is for everyone else.

            They break apart when Zelena winces in pain.

            “Are you okay?” Cora asks, flying to her daughter with a worried expression in her eyes.

            “I’m fine,” Zelena insists, gripping the edge of the table to ground herself. “Just another false contraction.”

            “Another one?” Cora puts a hand on her shoulder and watches with concern.

            Zelena nods. “I’ve been having them on and off all day.”

            “Are you sure you’re not in labor?”

            “I’ve already had two children!” Zelena bites out. “I know what real labor feels like and this… isn’t… it.”

            Finally, she relaxes, and everyone in the room sighs in relief. “Besides, it’s passed. I’ll let you know if we need to go to the hospital.”

            Though clearly unconvinced by Zelena’s reassurances, Cora lets the mother-to-be have her way.

            Just then, Hunter races in.

            “Auntie Regina!” he exclaims. “We’re going to play outside after lunch. Will you come with us?”

            “Of course!” Regina says, turning to Emma, eyes suddenly shy and hopeful. “Do you want to come?”

            Emma doesn’t hesitate at all. “Sure!”

            The family enjoys a quiet morning in the house, Kelly and Hunter playing with their new toys and Henry getting out his sax again. They eat a quick lunch of leftovers before Emma, Regina, Walsh, Kelly, and Hunter head out to the foyer. Together, the group piles on coats, pants, hats, gloves, scarves, and boots, making sure they’ll stay warm in the cold Maine weather.

            Immediately upon leaving the house, Kelly sprints into the yard, plops down in the snow, and waves her arms and legs back and forth.

            “Look at me, Auntie Regina! Look!”

            Regina and Emma chuckle at her excitement as Hunter races to her side and makes a snow angel of his own. When the kids stand up to view their work, Regina praises them, “Very good!”

            A few feet away, Walsh kneels down in the snow and tests to see if it’s sticky. “Hey kids, do you want to build a snowman?”

            “Yeah!” Hunter exclaims, rushing over and starting a ball.

            Kelly giggles and does the same, singing, “Do you wanna build a snowmaaaan?”

            Emma chuckles as the girl continues with the verse. Discretely, she leans over and asks Regina, “Does she know the whole song?”

            Biting back her own chuckle, Regina nods. “She knows the whole _movie_. Do _not_ get her started.”

            It’s too late though, because after two verses of “Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?” Kelly switches to Frozen’s staple song.

            “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint… to be seen…”

            The adults help with the project, collecting sticks and rocks for decorations and taking over for the kids when the balls get too heavy to roll. When Kelly reaches the chorus, everyone joins in.

            It’s the silliest thing she’s done in a long time – and Emma does a _lot_ of silly things – but it’s so innocent and sweet that she doesn’t even mind.

            Hunter gets tired of the song after a while – Emma figures his sister must sing it a lot – and starts into “Frosty the Snowman.” The adults happily oblige, though Kelly needs some encouragement before she allows the change.

            When they finish, they all step back to admire their masterpiece.

            “Should we name it?” Regina suggests.

            “Olaf!” Kelly shouts. Hunter begins to protest, but it’s too late.

            “Olaf, it is,” Walsh proclaims.

            Kelly tugs on his sleeve and looks at him through big, round eyes. “Daddy, can we go sledding?”

            “Of course. Let’s go get the sleds.”

            They walk around the house to the garage, where two small, plastic, saucer-shaped sleds hang from the wall. Walsh gets them down for the kids, handing the pink one to Kelly and the green one to Hunter.

            Together, the group treks through the woods behind the mansion, following Walsh’s lead. Partway through, Regina silently takes Emma’s hand, and Emma feels a flutter in her heart as she squeezes Regina’s palm. The pair continue to trudge through the snow, neither willing to break the connection.

            After several minutes of hiking, they stop, and Emma’s jaw drops at what she sees.

            They’ve reached a large clearing in the woods, currently overlooking a decently-sized hill. Snow-covered trees line the clearing and go back in every direction. There are no footprints or signs of life, and the wind blows softly around them. The world back here is so quiet; it almost seems like a crime to disturb anything.

            “Let’s go!” Hunter exclaims, rushing forward. His sister begins to follow, but Walsh and Regina stop them before they get too far.

            “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. What do we have to do first?”

            Hunter grumbles as he replies, “Make the pile.”

            Confused, Emma follows Walsh and Regina to a spot at the bottom of the hill, where they start making a pile of snow.

            “What’s this for?” Emma asks curiously as she bends down to help.

            “It’s so the kids don’t fly off into the woods and hit a tree. The pile will stop them from going too far,” Walsh informs.

            The kids wait impatiently at the top of the hill, hopping from foot to foot.

            “Daddy, are you done yet?”

            “Can we go yet?

            “Is it almost done?”

            “I wanna sled!”

            Finally, Walsh and Regina step back, analyzing the size of the pile and deeming it good enough. At this, Emma also steps away. They give Kelly permission to go, and the three-year-old speeds down the hill in her pink saucer sled, screaming all the way. At the bottom, she crashes into the pile of snow, which doesn’t collapse upon impact. Emma nods approvingly at the idea as the adults make their way back up the hill.

            “Whoa, that was fast!” Kelly exclaims, moving quickly out of the way and brushing past the adults to go again.

            Hunter’s turn is next, and he whoops with joy as his sled zooms down.

            Chuckling at their excitement, the adults watch as the kids go again and again and again, never tiring of the activity.

            After one of the rounds, as Kelly’s trudging back up the hill, she beams at Emma.

            “Auntie Mal! Auntie Mal! Did you see how fast I went?”

            Walsh grins, finding the exclamation endearing. Emma, however, feels her heart suddenly beating faster at the title.

            This… what she and Regina are doing… it isn’t real, no matter how they’d kissed back at the house. Maybe it _could_ be something, but in this moment, it isn’t, and the reality of the front they’re putting up crashes into her.

            Regina and Emma exchange a look, Emma terrified of how to react and Regina guiltily trying to reassure her.

            Emma thinks she responds with something along the lines of, “Yeah, that was pretty fast!” but honestly, she wasn’t really paying much attention.

            Kelly misses this whole exchange and happily, obliviously sleds back down the hill.

            After another few rounds, Kelly collapses against the snow at the top of the hill, announcing that she needs a break.

            Emma eyes Kelly’s discarded saucer and, without warning, declares, “I want a turn.”

            Regina worries her brow. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

            “Nah, I’ll be fine,” Emma says as she reaches for the sled. She plants it in the snow and seats herself cross-legged on top of it.

            “Please be careful, Em-,” Regina coughs. “Mal.”

            Smirking at the slip-up (and warming at the thought that it could have been due to concern), Emma pushes herself into motion without another thought.

            She whoops as the sled picks up speed and races faster down the hill. Waving at Hunter as she passes him, Emma grips the handles of the sled and grins as the wind whips her cheeks.

            She laughs as she slides further down the hill, spotting the pile they’d built to stop the sleds rapidly approaching.

            Frowning, she realizes she’s still accelerating and drags her hands through the snow behind her to slow herself down; however, the move is futile, and as the sled approaches the pile, she braces herself for impact.

            It never comes. There’s a thump as the sled hits the small hill, but instead of stopping there, the sled rides right over the snow like a ramp and keeps going.

            “Mal!” Regina screams, but Emma barely hears her as she continues sliding along uncharted snow.

            Seconds later, she crashes headfirst into a tree.

            The saucer flies out from beneath her and finally comes to a stop a few feet away. Emma slumps beside the tree, clutching her now throbbing head with her hand. The skin on her cheeks, jaw, and forehead burn, and when Emma’s fingertips touch her scrapes gently, they come back dotted with blood.

            “Dammit,” she mutters. Behind her, Regina comes racing down the hill, torn between carefully watching her steps and throwing caution to the wind to get to Emma as quickly as possible.

            “Oh my god, are you okay?” she says, bending down next to Emma and inspecting her wounds. “I told you to be careful.”

            Emma winces as Regina’s fingers trace her cuts. “I’m fine.”

            “No, you’re not. I can’t believe I let you – dammit, I knew this was a bad idea.”

            “Regina, relax,” Emma says, brushing away Regina’s hands. She can’t deny that Regina’s excessive concern, though unnecessary, feels kind of nice. “I’m fine. Just a little scraped up.”

            “Let’s get you in the house. Can you walk?”

            Emma nods and, refusing help from Regina, pushes herself to a standing position. She glances at the top of the hill where Kelly and Hunter watch with shocked faces.

            “I’m fine, guys, don’t worry! Just be careful!”

            They climb the hill, and when they get to Walsh, who had stayed at the top with the kids, Regina informs him that she’s taking Mal inside and deposits Kelly’s sled beside her. Walsh, whose offer to help gets denied, agrees to stay outside so the kids can keep playing.

            When they get to the house, Regina leads her into the kitchen and guides her onto a bar stool, despite Emma’s protests that she doesn’t need help. Thumps sound behind Emma as drawers and cabinets open and close. She waits patiently for Regina to do whatever she’s doing, thinks she hears the freezer open and shut, and tries to ignore the way her heart warms when Regina comes back into view.

            Regina presses a bundle into Emma’s hands – it’s a bag of ice cubes from the freezer wrapped in a towel – and says, “Put this on your head while I go get the first aid kit.”

            She exits the room, leaving Emma alone in the kitchen to press ice to her throbbing head.

            Moments later, Regina returns, a small white case in her hands. She sets it on the counter next to Emma and rifles through its contents before setting aside what she needs.

            Regina disappears from view again, and Emma hears the sink run behind her. When Regina comes back in front of her, she has a wet washcloth in her hand.

            “I’m going to clean you up a bit. Is that okay?”

            Emma’s about to sass back – _of course it’s okay_ – but something stops her, and instead she just mumbles, “Yeah.”

            Gently, Regina takes Emma’s chin with her free hand and holds her head still. With the other hand, she rubs the wet cloth across Emma’s cheeks, wiping away the blood that’s already starting to dry.

            “Of course it’s the adult who gets hurt, not the kids,” Regina teases lightly, an almost-smile on her lips.

            Emma licks her own and shrugs. “I’m an idiot.”

            Regina chuckles as she puts down the washcloth, now covered with small splotches of dark red, and picks up a tube of ointment.

            “Yes,” she says as she applies the cream to Emma’s cuts. Emma closes her eyes and tries to ignore the way Regina’s fingertips make her skin tingle even more than the accident had.

            “But you’re my idiot,” Regina adds, and Emma can’t help but snap her eyes wide open again. Did Regina just call Emma _her_ idiot?

            Movement in the corner catches her eye, and Emma spots Henry checking in on them.

            _Of course_ , Emma thinks. _That comment couldn’t possibly have been for me._

            Regina puts down the medicine and picks up a large, square band-aid to fit over the cuts on her cheek. She applies another band-aid to the side of Emma’s forehead, and a smaller one to the edge of her jaw.

            “Better?”

            Emma nods.

            “Thank you.”

            “How’s your head?”

            Emma shrugs. “A little better. Still hurts a little.”

            Regina eyes the ice pack. “Can I see?”

            Obediently, Emma moves the pack out of the way so Regina can inspect her head.

            The brunette’s fingers gently probe her head, edging strands of hair out of the way so she can inspect the skin, and Emma winces when they skirt across the place she’d hit it.

            “Did that hurt?”

            “Just a little.”

            Regina frowns. “You’ve got a nice bump there. Better keep that ice pack on it for a while.”

            Part of Emma wants to argue that she _knows_ , she’s done this before, but the other part of her kind of enjoys being coddled and cared for by Regina.

            She’s lifting the ice back to her head when they hear Cora call for Regina from the foyer.

            “Coming!” Regina calls, surveying Emma’s injuries once more. “You okay?”

            Emma fights the smile that threatens to spread across her face from Regina’s concern, knowing she shouldn’t look too excited about getting hurt, and nods slightly.

            “Yeah. Thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Regina hesitates, unsure about her next move. Then, she places a chaste kiss on Emma’s forehead before heeding her mother’s summons.

            For a few moments, it’s just Emma and Henry in the kitchen, and Emma has to fight to keep her blush from spreading. Regina had _kissed_ her. Again. It was only on the forehead, and it was so quick that one could blink and miss it, but the small motion has made her feel all warm inside. She feels giddy, and maybe it’s the head injury, but she’s starting to think that maybe, despite all of this mess, they could find a way to make this work.

             Henry smiles at her and asks, “How are you feeling?”

            “Better,” Emma says. “Definitely not doing that again.”

            Henry chuckles. “I would hope not. You scared us all quite a bit. I’m glad it wasn’t anything more serious.”

            Emma smiles, about to respond, when she hears some commotion in the foyer.

            “What’s going on?” she asks instead.

            “I don’t know.”

            Setting the bag of ice on the counter, she pushes off the stool and enters the foyer first, followed closely by Henry.

            “Hey, what’s going on?” Emma asks as everyone comes into view. She smiles at Regina before taking the whole room into account.

            The sight before her makes her stop dead in her tracks.

            Cora’s arms are folded as she glances back and forth between her daughter and the woman who appears to have just entered through the front door.

            A tall, blonde woman in a long, black pea coat holding a bouquet of roses.

            A woman Emma had only seen before in the pictures Regina had showed her.

            Mal.


	11. December 26 – 4:14pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Chapters 11 and 12 are a bit shorter, so I'm posting them together.  
> I LOVED reading your comments from the last cliffhanger. Thanks for continuing to read and comment! :)

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 4:14pm

            “You okay?” Regina ensures, eyebrows raised as she waits for Emma’s answer.

            “Yeah,” Emma confirms, smiling sheepishly beneath her bag of ice. “Thanks.”

            She hesitates, wondering if she should fight the instinct she feels, before deciding _fuck it_ and leaving a quick kiss on Emma’s forehead. “You’re welcome.”

            As she makes her way to the foyer, she mulls over the words she’d just used to describe Emma.

            _But you’re my idiot_.

            It had just been a tease; she didn’t realize anyone else had heard it. She just wanted to play on the relationship they’d had so far. Only after she said it did she realize her father had stepped into the room. It wasn’t intended to convince him, though she’s sure it helped anyway.

            _My idiot_. How natural those words had come. How easy it was to pretend that, for a moment, Emma was her anything.

            _And maybe she really_ could _be something_ , Regina thinks. She’d kissed the woman again, after all. An innocent peck to the forehead, but still. How comfortable had _that_ been?

            She smiles slightly as she thinks about the woman currently in the kitchen, waiting for her to return. She’s so busy thinking about that woman, however, that when she sees the snow-dusted one by the door, she almost doesn’t recognize her.

            Almost.

            But when those familiar eyes fall on her, when she recognizes the tall stature, the blonde hair, and the red lipstick, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

            _No. Mal can’t be… she can’t be_ here.

            But Mal _is_ here, holding a large bouquet of roses and standing next to her mother, who crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows in a threatening look that tells her the women have already exchanged words and none of them have been good. Regina can almost hear the _don’t-you-dare-lie-to-me_ in her mother’s piercing eyes.

            Fuck, Mal is _here_. Mal is standing in her parents’ foyer in Storybrooke, Maine, instead of back in Boston where Regina left her.

            Cora’s the first to speak. “Regina, this lovely young woman said she came to see you. She said her name is _Mal_.”

            Regina feels her heartbeat quicken, feels the sweat forming on her palms, feels her throat close up as the sudden urge to run overtakes her. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to find something to say to either woman, but the words won’t come. It’s like the winged carriage she’d been riding in for the past few days had crash-landed, like Emma into the tree, and now she’s scrambling to get her bearings from within the wreckage.

            Mal seems slightly confused at the way Cora emphasizes her name, but nonetheless, her attention fully lands on Regina and doesn’t waver.

            “Hi.”

            Regina stares at her. Stares at the woman who merely _weeks_ ago had called her a distraction, had said that they didn’t have a future together, had said that she and Regina didn’t _belong_ together.

            “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Regina. I made a mistake.”

            Cora watches with narrowed eyebrows as she asks, “Regina, what is she talking about?”

            Mal continues as if she hadn’t heard Cora, needing to get her apology out. “I’m so sorry for hurting you and for everything I said the last time I saw you.”

            “Regina, would you care to explain what’s going on?”

            “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness at all. But spending Christmas without you, realizing how much I missed you when you were gone, made me realize that I don’t want miss you or be without you ever again.”

            “I won’t ask again.”

            “Please, Regina. Will you forgive me?” Mal holds out the bouquet to her, an apologetic smile on her crimson lips.

            Regina’s attention darts from the roses to ice blue eyes to Mother’s hard glare, and it’s too much at once. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to forgive Mal, if she even _wants_ to forgive Mal, and now Mother’s asking questions and Regina supposes now she’ll _have_ to come clean, but she doesn’t know how to explain what she’s done while Mal _and_ Mother are in the same room, watching her like they are. She’s trapped, not sure what to do or how to respond.

            And then the bomb hits. Emma’s voice rings out clear over the other women’s.

            “Hey, what’s going on?”

            Shit, this is just going to make it worse. She needs to get Emma out of here, needs to deal with one tornado at a time, so she says, “Go back to the kitchen.”

            “No!” Cora cuts in, harsh and to the point. She points a finger at Emma. “You come here, right now.”

            Everything is crashing and burning around her. Too many things to say and not enough room to say them. Surely, the moment she speaks, someone will cut her off. Regina’s breath quickens as panic sets in.

            “Who’s at the door?” she hears, and fuck, there’s Daddy following Emma into the foyer. Disappointing her mother is one thing, but having to admit what she and Emma had done in front of her father? There’s no way he’ll ever forgive her for deceiving him like this.

            Only now does Mal start to realize that something’s not quite right. “Regina, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

            Then, Zelena waddles in from the living room, asking, “Hey, what’s all the noise about?”

            Cora’s hard voice speaks again, “Regina, what did you do?”

            It’s all too much, too many people asking questions, too many people she’s about to hurt. Everything’s about to go to hell – Regina knows this for a fact – and none of it would have happened if Mal hadn’t dumped her just over a week ago. She and Mal – the real Mal – would have been _here_ , together, and Regina never would have needed Emma in the first place. She and Emma would have succeeded if Mal had waited to show up until after the holidays, if Mal hadn’t chosen to drive all the way up here to _Storybrooke, Maine_ , to draw out some big fat apology Regina isn’t sure she even wants to accept anyway.

            She’s had enough.

            “Fuck you!” she shouts. The _slap_ and the tingling pain in her hand barely register in her mind.

            Mal recoils, dropping the bouquet on the floor and clutching her face in pain.

            “How dare you dump me _the week before Christmas_!”

            In her periphery, she sees her mother’s eyes, wide and disapproving over what she’s just done. Finding she just doesn’t fucking care, Regina rounds on Cora.

            “You wanna know what’s going on?” She points in Emma’s direction, feeling a small pang of guilt when the blonde flinches at the motion. “This is Emma. I _paid_ her to come here and pretend to be Mal since the _real_ Mal decided we weren’t compatible anymore.”

            Her mother doesn’t say a word, too stunned to say anything. Regina’s hands curl into fists involuntarily, but she’s able to keep them at her sides as she shifts her attention back to Mal.

            “And _then_ , if dumping me just in time for Christmas wasn’t enough, you thought you’d just… what, show up here, apologize, and we’d skip off into the sunset together?”

            Mal drops her hand from her face, revealing a bright red patch of skin shaped like Regina’s hand on her cheek.

            “I _thought_ that maybe we could talk. That maybe if I apologized and brought you flowers you might just _consider_ forgiving me.”

            “You think _flowers_ will make up for what you put me through?”

            Mal huffs. “Of _course_ not. I came to make up with you, not bribe you back to me. And what I put you through? We were only together for eight months!”

            “Eight months is a _long_ time.”

            “I’ve had less dramatic breakups with people I’ve dated for even lo-”

            “Dammit, Mal, I was going to propose to you!”

            That shuts her up. The room goes dead silent, so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone around her holds their breath with shocked expressions, freezing as they try to digest all of the information they’re learning from the fight.

            Mal’s jaw drops in shock, though she quickly closes it again. Sure, Mal might have doubted her feelings for Regina, but apparently she had no idea how Regina felt for her or how much damage she’d caused.

            “That’s right. I found a ring, I had the date planned out, and what happened? You dumped me, and I took the money I’d been saving for _months_ to buy your engagement ring and used it to pay a stranger to be my girlfriend because _you_ decided to break up with me only a week ago. What do you think that says about us?”

            “I think it says more about you than it does about me.”

            Regina freezes, the statement hitting her in a weak spot.

            “What?”

            This time, it’s Mal who gets angry. It’s Mal who steps into her space with fire in her eyes and spits, “No one _asked_ you to do that. You can’t spend one Christmas with your family without a date?”

            “How petty do you think I am? I’ve spent _every Christmas_ without someone special to share it with.” She glances at Cora, tempted to lay the all blame on her but knowing instantly that she can’t. Cora didn’t make her bring someone with her, regardless of how many times she’s told Regina to find a partner. Regina made this mistake all on her own.

            “For once, I just wanted to feel like I was doing something _right_.”

            Mal scoffs. “Well, you certainly screwed that one up.”

            “Hey!” Zelena cuts in. “Don’t talk to her like that. She wouldn’t have _needed_ to hire someone if you hadn’t dumped her.”

            “Haven’t you been listening?” Mal exclaims. “Regina didn’t _need_ a date. No one _needs_ a date for Christmas.”

            Zelena catches Regina’s eye and sends her a look. A look that says she understands why Regina wanted someone here with her. A look that says she understands why Regina did this.

            “Honestly, Regina,” Cora finally says, hurt and anger and disappointment dripping from her voice, “I can’t believe you did this. This is the most childish thing you’ve ever done. I’m so disappointed in you.”

            Regina instantly deflates when she looks at her mother, the woman she’d done this for, the woman she’d been trying to impress the whole time. The woman who, for once, she wished would be proud of her. The woman who’s now saying she’s disappointed in her.

            Regina’s never enough. She’s never enough for anyone. She wasn’t enough for Mal, so she got dumped. She’s never enough for Mother, and the one year she thought she could stop the criticism for even a few days turned out to be no different from the rest.

            Everyone’s starting to yell, now. Mal and Cora are yelling at her – “You didn’t need a date, this is so stupid,” and “I’m disappointed in you, how could you have done this” – and Zelena and Emma are yelling at them – “ _You’re_ the one who broke my sister’s heart,” and “Just listen to her, _please_ ” – and her father is off to the side, watching with a somber expression – Regina isn’t brave enough to even _wonder_ what he must be thinking – and there’s so many voices at once, drowning hers out as she tries desperately to defend herself, and she feels like she’s drowning, drowning in the wreckage of a crashed ship that was never going to make it to its destination anyway, drowning in a sea of voices that are all yelling, that are all upset because of what _she’d_ done, and nothing is what it’s supposed to be, and the tears start to form around her eyes when –

            “HEY!”

            All of the voices quiet, and Regina silently thanks whoever had quieted them.

            “My water just broke.”

            Regina opens her eyes, not even realizing they’d been closed, and finds Zelena in the crowd around her, standing over a small puddle of water.

            Confusion etches across Cora’s face. “I thought you weren’t due for another two weeks.”

            “I’m not,” Zelena replies, casually hobbling over to the coat closet to get her purse. “But you know as well as I do, when a Mills wants something, they get it. And this baby? It wants to come _now_.”

            And just like that, the storm picks back up again, a different one, with a voice yelling, “Somebody get Walsh!” and another shouting, “We need to get you to the hospital!”

            Cora’s the first to move, grabbing her purse and taking one of Zelena’s arms as Henry takes her other one and produces the car keys.

            “I’m not a baby, Mother, I’m just having one,” Zelena protests even as she lets them help her out the door to Cora’s car.

            As Regina runs out to the woods to tell Walsh what’s happening, Emma follows Cora, Henry, and Zelena to the car. Unsure of what to do, but concerned and wanting to help, Emma waits until Zelena’s settled in the backseat to ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

            Immediately, Cora whips around, shooting Emma the angriest, dirtiest look she’s ever seen.

            “Yes, there is something you can do. You can _leave_.”

            Raising her hands slightly, Emma continues, “I just meant that since Zelena’s going into labor, maybe there’s something I ca-”

            “Oh, I know what you meant, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough.” Cora straightens up and advances on her, and Emma has to fight the urge to step backward. “You deceived us. You played us. If your goal was to mess with a perfectly well-to-do family, then congratulations, you succeeded.”

            “Cora, I just wanted to hel-”

            “You just wanted to help? Well, we don’t want your help. All you are is a lying, conniving little wench who was so desperate for money that she thought she’d make a small fortune by coming here and making a mockery out of a stranger’s family.

            “Look, I’m sorry you all got hurt by this, but I swear, that wasn’t the intention.”

            “Oh? You mean trying to trick us all into believing you actually loved my daughter _wasn’t_ the intention?”

            “Well, sort of, but we never meant it to be –”

            “Well, regardless of how you meant it to be, you deliberately set out to humiliate us all. And to think, you had the audacity to come _back_ after I finally got you to leave.”

            Emma freezes, narrowing her eyes.

            “After _you_ got me to leave? You mean, you knew? You knew this _whole_ time?”

            “Don’t flatter yourself, dear. You may think you and my daughter were clever, but I knew from the very start.”

            Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma scrambles for something to say. “But… if you knew, then why did you make Regina propose to me? Why make some elaborate scheme to get rid of me instead of just confronting us about it?”

            “You mean, why fabricate a complicated scheme instead of telling the truth?” Cora advances again, and this time Emma does take a step back. “Now, why does that sound familiar?”

            As Cora sneers at her, arms crossed and furious eyes boring into her, Emma thinks back over the weekend, trying to figure out how Cora knew, or if there was any evidence of it.

            She remembers the loose hug she’d received upon arrival. Could Cora have figured it out then? Certainly not – there wasn’t any evidence at that point to suggest anything was wrong. The woman couldn’t have known it from the start. She’s exaggerating.

            Of course, there were the slip-ups in the kitchen on Christmas Eve, when Cora threatened to basically destroy Emma’s life if she let Regina down – which sends a chill up Emma’s spine as she realizes she’s in a terrifyingly similar scenario at the moment. If Cora knew, then she _had_ to have known Christmas morning, after the kids accidentally mentioned their midnight trip to the kitchen. Of course, the meat could have been for Regina, or Mal could have been an uncommitted vegetarian sneaking meat, but if Cora had noticed the other clues and tied this instance to them, she certainly could have figured it out by that point.

             “Since you asked – I encouraged Regina to propose because, had your relationship been real, we would have celebrated the engagement and welcomed you into the family as if you were already part of it. Regina would have been happily engaged and we all would have been there to see it; however, I knew if you were really a fake, then a proposal would push you over the edge and you would leave. What I don’t understand is,” Cora continues, “you don’t know any of us. You don’t really care about my daughter. So why are you still here?”

            Emma fumes. If Cora had indeed known, how much of a _bitch_ is she to have made Regina propose? There were other ways to get rid of Emma. Cora _knew_ what kind of emotional rollercoaster she was sending her daughter on, but she did it anyway… for punishment? For her own amusement? It makes Emma sick just thinking about it, especially when considering how much money Cora must have to be able to blow a bunch of it on an engagement ring that doesn’t even mean anything.

            Now, Emma’s pissed, and she doesn’t care how terrifying it is to have Cora glaring at her like she's committed murder; she’s going to give the woman a piece of her mind.

            “Okay, fine, I’ll go, but here’s the thing: have you ever thought about what _Regina_ wants?”

            She watches Cora, trying to make sure her words are sinking in. “You’ve been criticizing her all weekend. Nothing she does is ever good enough for you. You made her propose to a near- _stranger_ and she only did it because she wanted to make you happy.”

            Unaffected, Cora dismisses Emma with a wave of the hand. “She didn’t have to take the ring. She could have said no.”

            “But she didn’t feel like she could! You make her feel absolutely worthless, like all you think she’s good for is a baby machine.” She stops herself before she can go on. Yes, she’s breaching Regina’s trust right now by saying these things, but she won’t tell Cora the secret of all secrets that Regina had shared with her.

            “The only reason I am here,” she continues, “is because she was afraid to disappoint _you_ by showing up without a date.”

            “And yet she’s disappointed me anyways.”

            This time, it’s Emma advancing on Cora.

            “You said you have her best interests at heart. But shouldn’t you be thinking about what Regina’s interests _are_?”

            Cora glares at her, angry at being challenged by some _girl_ who’s only here right now because she was paid.

            As she opens her mouth to respond, however, Zelena rolls down the window in the backseat and yells, “Holy shit, guys, can we do this later? I’m literally going into labor.”

            From the front porch, Walsh sprints towards them, exclaiming, “Let’s go have a baby!” and hops into the backseat with his wife.

            For a moment, neither Cora nor Emma responds, continuing their stare-down as if they hadn’t heard anything. Then, in a low voice, Cora threatens, “I’ll say it one last time. Leave my property – _and this_ _town_ – or I will make your life a living hell.”

            Without waiting for a response, Cora sweeps away, taking the passenger seat and commanding Henry to drive.

            Unwilling to let Cora win, Emma doesn’t move until the car has backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

*

            Regina finds Walsh where she and Emma had left him; watching Kelly and Hunter slide down the hill. When she tells him the news, the kids shriek in excitement and run for the house, dragging their sleds behind them. For a moment, Walsh freezes, like it’s suddenly hit him that in mere hours he’s going to have another child.

            “I don’t think she grabbed her hospital bag, just her purse…” Regina informs, which propels Walsh into motion again. He dashes back to the house to retrieve the bag, and Regina follows. She finds the kids hopping up and down in the living room, Mal watching with a wary look.

            “How can I help?” she asks, anxious to do something for her girlfriend and desperate to get back into her good graces. She waits patiently for instructions.

            This, _this_ , Regina can do. Take control in a wild situation that she _hasn’t_ caused. She kneels down to Kelly and Hunter’s level to ask, “Can you guys pack a bag with things to do while we wait? It’ll be a while until Mommy has the baby.”

            Nodding excitedly, the kids hurry up the steps as Walsh rushes down them, a medium-sized suitcase in his hand. “You got the kids?”

            “Yes. You four get to the hospital. We’ll be there soon.”

            “Thanks, Regina,” he says breathlessly as he darts out the door. They hear him shout, “Let’s go have another baby!” as he climbs into the car. They watch through the windows as the car drives away. As Emma reenters the house and climbs the staircase – claiming to need the bathroom – Regina wonders what she’s supposed to do about her, now that they’ve been found out.

            The front door swings shut, and suddenly, it’s just the two of them. Regina and Mal, alone.

            Almost involuntarily, Regina finds herself sizing her up as they stand together: the tall, driven woman she used to have. The smart resident who focused on her work and shared everything with Regina. The woman Regina thought she was going to marry until a little over a week ago.

            Mal crosses her arms, clearly upset and hurt.

            In a tiny voice, she asks, “You really tried to replace me?”

            Guilt floods through Regina; she’d predicted how her plan would affect her family, but she never anticipated how it would affect the person she’d lied about.

            She licks her lips. “It’s not like I was trying to _replace_ you, I just… it hurt so much when you left and I’d made such a big deal about you to my parents. Saying your girlfriend can’t come because she has to work and saying your girlfriend can’t come because she dumped you are two very different things. And the latter would have been humiliating after how much I built you up.”

            “But don’t you care about me at all? I mean, I showed up here to discover you’d already found another woman. Real or fake, how do you think that makes me feel?”

            “I didn’t know you were going to show up! How was I supposed to know the breakup was temporary? For all I knew, we were done for good.”

            Mal nods, as if accepting defeat. “So you’ve already moved on from me…”

            Shaking her head, Regina steps towards her (ex?) girlfriend, suddenly back in the place she’d been last week. Regardless of what happened this weekend, Mal had been important to Regina. Mal _is_ important to Regina, and a part of her desperately wants to fix things, to get back what they’d had and dissuade the assumption that she doesn’t still have feelings for her. Which means she has to say… “No, Mal, I swear, there’s nothing going on between me and Emma.”

            “Right,” she says disbelievingly, an eyebrow raised.

            “Mal, of course I care about you.” She scrambles for words that will curb Mal’s jealousy and forces them out, no matter how much they hurt. “Emma… Emma means nothing to me.” Ignoring the way her heart sinks as she says it, she presses on. “Do you think after eight months together, I could forget about you, just like that?”

            Tilting her head to the side, Mal still seems unconvinced. “Right, so, you didn’t forget about me, you just pretended someone else was me.”

            Regina winces. “Yes. But like I said, I thought you weren’t coming back.”

            “I’m here now.”

            Regina stares at her, glances at the bouquet of roses that had fallen to the floor, now trampled and deformed from the baby excitement, stray petals ripped from their stems lying helplessly on the wood.

            She sees the sorrow in Mal’s eyes, knows that the woman really does regret her choice to leave Regina.

            Clearing her throat, Regina finds herself saying, “Do you still want to get back together?”

            Mal sticks her hands in her pockets, attention turning down to her feet. She shifts in her place, clearly thinking, before looking back up at Regina.

            “Do you?”

            Regina uncrosses her arms and stares at the woman she loved – loves – and tries to reimagine the future she’d pictured with the two of them together. Thinks about the ring she’d picked out gleaming on Mal’s fourth finger. Thinks about Mal, coming here – staying here – every Christmas from now until they die. Thinks of pattering feet in the hallway and a dog or a cat coming to be pet and… everything’s hazy. It’s not quite as picturesque as she first imagined it.

            She opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by Emma descending the steps, her duffel in tow.

            Narrowing her eyebrows, Regina addresses her.

            “Where are you going?”

            Seeming distracted, Emma pauses on a stair and motions to the door. “Uh… home.” Avoiding Regina’s eyes, she scratches the back of her head and continues. “I mean, we got busted, your mom doesn’t really want me here, and you already paid me so… we’re pretty much done?”

            Regina blinks, forgetting that she technically no longer needs Emma anymore. Her eyes flick to Mal and catch a pointed glare. Mal’s waiting for her to dismiss the woman she just said she didn’t have feelings for.

            Eyes finding Emma again, Regina wonders if she had heard that part of the conversation. The foyer’s big – voices can carry up the steps. It’s entirely possible.

            They did _have_ something this weekend though, right? Regina hasn’t been imagining the feelings and the touches and the way they complement each other almost perfectly.

            But Mal’s still waiting. Mal, whom Regina loved – loves – loved? – before all of this went down. Mal, with whom Regina had seen a bright, prosperous future. Mal, who’s currently moving her hands to her hips in impatient exasperation.

            “Right.” Regina swallows the hoarseness in her voice. “Of – of course.”

            Emma finishes descending the steps and pauses in front of her. She hesitates (as if… no, Emma hadn’t been planning to _hug_ her, had she? In front of her girlfriend?) and awkwardly sticks out her hand. “Uh… happy holidays. I hope… I hope things work out for you.”

            Taking Emma’s hand, Regina shakes it, reveling in the last time she’ll touch Emma’s hand, ever. “Same to you.”

            The handshake lasts a beat too long, and when they realize it, both women let go immediately. Emma turns to Mal.

            “It was… nice to meet you.” Even as she says it, she knows how awkward it sounds. She holds out her hand to Mal, a peace offering of sorts.

            The other blonde eyes her hand with slight contempt. “I wish I could say the same.”

            Emma doesn’t seem at all surprised or disappointed by Mal’s reaction – after all, it’s pretty reasonable considering the circumstances. Instead, she withdraws her hand, glances back at Regina – emerald boring into chocolate, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, has Emma always been this beautiful? – and says, “I left the… um…” She wiggles the fingers of her left hand, wrapped around the strap of her duffel and now strikingly bare, for emphasis. “Upstairs.”

            Regina nods, staring at Emma’s empty ring finger. “Thank you.”

            They stand like that for another moment, Emma staring at Regina, Regina staring at Emma, and Mal watching them both like a puzzle she’s trying to figure out.

            Then, Emma takes a step towards the door. “Well, I’ll… uh…” _See ya around_ , it seems she’s about to say. “…go. Bye.”

            “Goodbye, Emma.”

            With that, the blonde disappears, and Regina watches the door close behind her before turning back to Mal.

            The woman in front of her lifts an eyebrow again.

            “Who’s that girl, again?”

            Regina shrugs, unsure how much information to give away. “Just an acquaintance. I don’t even know her very well. She’s just… someone who was there when I needed her.”

            Mal winces at the jab, about to comment, when the kids barrel down the staircase, pink and green backpacks in tow.

            “Auntie Regina, we’re ready!”

            They come to a halt in front of them, bouncing with excitement before deflating slightly at the stranger they hadn’t really noticed when they ran inside.

            “Who’s that?” Hunter asks curiously, eyeing Mal with the same hesitation he showed Emma when they first arrived.

            Regina clears her throat and kneels down to their level, trying to decide how exactly she should explain the situation to the kids.

            “Hunter, Kelly, this is… this is Mal,” she says, gesturing to the other woman with her hand.

            Mal smiles gently from where she stands and offers a friendly wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

            Hunter mumbles his standard, “Nice to meet you,” that Zelena’s taught him to say, but Kelly stands with her brows furrowed, taking in the lady in front of her.

            “There’s two Mals?” she asks with confusion. “Where’s the other Mal?”

            Regina clears her throat again. “Kids, the… other Mal… she had to go home.” Their faces fall with disappointment, and suddenly Regina needs to get them to like the new Mal, needs them not to make comments about Emma in front of her maybe-girlfriend that could make her jealous all over again.

            “It’s okay, kids. I know she didn’t say goodbye, but this Mal is really fun, too. She’s going to help us get to the hospital. Is that okay?”

            Kelly still watches Mal with distrust, but Hunter shrugs his shoulders and heads for his coat and boots. “Kay.”

            Regina watches him go, slightly irritated at Mal for not getting down to the kids’ level to talk to them ( _but if she’s not used to talking to kids, it’s not her fault_ , Regina muses). She glances up at her. “Can you help Hunter with his coat and boots?”

            Mal seems startled, as if she’s never been asked this before, but obeys. “Sure.” She crosses to Hunter and offers to help him. Stubborn, Hunter refuses and insists he can do it on his own. Mal shoots Regina a pleading look for help, and Regina ushers Kelly over to the coats and boots as well.

            “Hunter can mostly do everything on his own. He just needs a new pair of gloves and a hat. The ones they were wearing earlier are probably cold and wet from playing outside.”

            Nodding at the instructions, Mal finds a plastic bag nearby, rummages through it, and pulls out fresh hats and gloves for both kids.

            Kelly can mostly get into her coat and boots herself, but Regina waits close by in case she needs help. Both kids take their things from Mal and put them on. Regina tugs the hat snugly over Kelly’s ears before slipping on her own coat. Mal, following Regina’s lead, puts on her coat and boots.

            “We’re going to take your Mommy’s car, okay?” the kids nod at the direction, pick up their bags, and race out the door, excited to meet their younger brother or sister.

            Regina turns to Mal. “I have to run up and check on something. Will you help the kids into their car seats?” At Mal’s (albeit nervous) nod, Regina rushes up the staircase in her black pea coat and heads straight to her old bedroom.

            The bed is made, just as Regina had left it this morning. On Emma’s side, the floor is clear – no signs of the black duffel the blonde had brought. A glint of light catches her eye, and she finds the engagement ring sitting on her own nightstand, in the same place Emma had left it before.

            She crosses the room to pick it up, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. The same wave of disappointment passes over her as she twirls the ring and admires the diamond once again. A piece of her had wanted Emma to stay, but it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? She and Mal are – hopefully – going to try to work things out, and Regina can’t do that if Emma’s still here, can she?

            Remembering that she’d left Mal with the kids downstairs, Regina pockets the ring in her red slacks, double-checks that all the lights are off, and locks the front door as she makes her way to the car.

            What she finds is a mess. Hunter’s pouting in his seat, arms crossed and lips curled, while Mal is struggling with Kelly’s seatbelt.

            “Okay, I’ve got this,” Regina says, easing Mal out of the way. She untangles Kelly from the various straps of her car seat before securing her in correctly.

            “Hunter, can you please buckle yourself in?” she shoots across the middle. Hunter glares at Mal but obeys Regina, clicking his own seatbelt into place.

            “I’m sorry,” Mal says as Regina shuts Kelly’s door. “I haven’t done a kid’s seatbelt in a long time.”

            They round to the other side of the car. Regina checks that Hunter had indeed buckled himself in correctly before shutting his door.

            “I tried to help Hunter, but he got mad at me and wouldn’t let me help.”

            Regina squeezes Mal’s shoulder in comfort. “It’s fine. Hunter’s very independent and car seats can be tricky. It’s not your fault.” Looking Mal over with a wary look, Regina asks quietly, “Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with this? If you just want to go home…”

            “No, no, of course it’s fine. Your sister’s having a baby. Of course I’ll help out.”

            Squeezing Mal’s shoulder once more, Regina circles the car again and slides into the driver’s seat as Mal climbs into the passenger’s side. Regina puts the car into gear and drives them to the hospital, anxious to meet the newest member of the Mills family.


	12. December 26 – 5:08pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was part of another double update, so make sure you read the previous chapter first! :)  
> (The chapter below contains one of the most awkward hope speeches you'll ever hear.)

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 5:08pm

            Emma storms across town for the second time that day, shin-deep in snow and duffel hanging over her back.

            She’s angry. Absolutely livid.

            What gave Mal the right to show up _the day after Christmas_ at Regina’s parents’ door to ask for forgiveness? Sure, Regina had invited her to spend Christmas with them, but wouldn’t their breakup make the invitation null?

            How could that horrible woman break up with Regina in the first place?

            Emma crosses her arms against the cold. And what right did Cora have to get mad at her? She was just playing a part in the plan! She was just doing what Regina asked her to do.

            _Regina_.

            She tries to push away the memory of Regina saying, “ _Emma means nothing to me_.”

            Quickly, she changes her mind. Cora can be as mad at Emma as she wants. Emma would take all of Cora’s anger if it meant she’d stop criticizing Regina. Even though she’s only been with the Mills for a weekend, she can clearly see that how Cora treats her daughter isn’t okay. The woman has no fucking boundaries or respect for privacy. Her hands are in _everything_. What must have Cora said to Regina over the years to make her believe she needed Emma in the first place? No wonder Regina only visited her parents once a year.

            Emma can’t even imagine accepting that kind of criticism from someone who’s supposed to love her for who she is. Moms, at least as far as Emma understands it, should love their daughters no matter what. Of course, Emma came to the conclusion long ago that her own mother didn’t, since she was abandoned on the side of a highway, but Regina _has_ her mom. Cora can actually _be_ with her daughter. The women have the opportunity to be together, yet the things Cora does will only push Regina further away. Shouldn’t Cora focus on what will make Regina happy rather than what will make her ‘successful?’

            Emma reminds herself that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t, not when…

            _Emma means nothing to me._

            She pushes the thought from her mind and treks onward. Maybe there could have been something. Maybe she and Regina would have worked out.

            But then Mal had to show up and ruin everything.

            When she makes it to the bus station, she finds out that the next bus to Boston doesn’t leave for another five hours, so she buys her ticket and heads back into the cold.

            She keeps trudging, and when she spots a cozy-looking diner next to a tall clock tower, she decides to go in. Maybe she can pass some of that time by getting a nice, warm meal.

            The bell overhead jingles as she opens the door. Quickly, she shuts it behind her to keep the cold out. Inside, the diner feels warm and toasty. The scent of chicken, pasta, burgers, and other warm, filling foods wafts in from the kitchen. Wreaths and garlands and red and white candles decorate the diner, even though Christmas has ended. Emma spots a small hallway in the back leading to the restrooms and a small sprig of mistletoe hanging at the start of it. From a bright, colorful jukebox in the back, strains of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” carry across the room.

            An attractive, busty waitress leads her to a booth, but Emma’s not in the mood to appreciate her assets. She plops down in her seat, tossing her duffel underneath the table. Briefly, she flips through the menu, and when the waitress returns, she orders a burger, fries, and a hot chocolate with cinnamon.

            While she waits for her food, Emma fumes over what Cora had said – “ _You don’t really care about my daughter_.”

            Just because Emma’s not actually dating Regina doesn’t mean she can’t care about her.

            And she does. She does care about Regina. Regina may not care about her. (“ _Emma means nothing to me_.”) Emma may not know anything about Regina’s childhood, angst-filled high school years, or college life, but she knows Regina _now_ , when it counts. Knows things that Regina hasn’t even told the rest of her family. Knows that Regina can’t have children and resents Mal for the way she’d handled it.

            She finds she really, truly wants Regina to be happy. Whether or not she gets back together with Mal.

            But Regina shouldn’t get back together with Mal. The woman had treated her like crap (as far as Emma knows). Broke up with her right before Christmas and asked for forgiveness the day after. Does Mal even care that she hurt Regina? After all, during the argument at the house, she’d dismissed Regina’s pain until the brunette announced her plans for proposing.

            Mal hasn’t been there for her. Hasn’t seen the way Cora slips in statements that make Regina feel guilty for things she shouldn’t. Hasn’t had to put up with an entire family and their high expectations of one particular brunette.

            Frustrated and angry, Emma texts Ruby.

_12/26/16 5:12pm: Regina’s gf showed up._

**12/26/16 5:16pm: are you serious? omg! what happened???**

_12/26/16 5:18pm: Her family got mad and told me to leave. Her sister went into_ _labor._

**12/26/16 5:19pm: you’re kidding me. her sister was so shocked she had a baby??**

_12/26/16 5:20pm: No, haha. Just made the whole thing crazier. I’m waiting for a_ _bus back to Boston now._

**12/26/16 5:22pm: wait, she’s not driving you back? did she pay you?**

_12/26/16 5:24pm: Well, they told me to leave and I’m not staying where I’m not_ _wanted. She payed me earlier today. Next bus leaves at 11._

**12/26/16 5:27pm: oh. well that’s good, isn’t it? you’re all done, and you made some money. pretty good christmas, i think.**

_12/26/16 5:30pm: Yeah._

            Ruby’s right. Emma should be happy with how things worked out. She fiddles with her phone, unsure what else to say to her friend without revealing anything major.

            Several minutes later, her phone buzzes again.

**12/26/16 5:37pm: omg you LIKE her, don’t you?**

_12/26/16 5:38pm: No, I do not /like/ Regina._

            **12/26/16 5:40pm: omg you do. emma’s got a cruuuush. :)**

            _12/26/16 5:42pm: I do not._

            **12/26/16 5:43pm: you totally do.**

            A minute later, Emma’s phone is ringing with a smiling Ruby on the caller ID. Emma sighs as she answers it.

            “You totally _like_ her, don’t you?”

            “Ruby, let it go, okay?”

            “Why? What’s wrong?”

            Emma sighs as she collapses against the back of the booth seat.

            “I told you, it’s over. She paid me and I left.”

            “Oh, Em, you’ve got it bad.”

            Frowning, Emma raises an eyebrow even though Ruby can’t see it. “Aren’t you at Dorothy’s right now?”

            “We’ve been on the road for a little over an hour.”

            “So Dorothy can hear everything you’re saying?”

            “Actually, you’re on speakerphone. She heard the whole thing.”

            A new voice comes over the phone, deep and friendly as she says, “Hey, Emma. Sorry ‘bout your girl.”

            Emma rolls her eyes. “Hey, Dorothy. Ruby, you’re supposed to let people _know_ when they’re on speaker. I’m talking about personal stuff, here.”

            “So you admit that you like her.”

            She sighs again as her drink is set down in front of her. Smiling and nodding her thanks to the waitress, she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on top and sucks the sugar off. Then, she puts her elbow on the table and cradles her forehead in her free hand.

            “Yeah, sure, whatever. Happy now?”

            “Yes!” Ruby announces smugly. “Now, what are we gonna do about this?”

            “Nothing, Ruby. I already told you. It’s over.”

            “So? Go back.”

            “Her sister’s having a _baby_ right now. I don’t think if I went to the hospital I’d be a welcome sight.” Emma wraps a hand around the mug of hot chocolate, letting the warmth spread from the hot glass to her cold fingertips and through her body. “Besides, her _real_ girlfriend showed up, remember? She’s getting back together with her.”

            There’s a pause on Ruby’s end. “Are you sure?”

            “Of course I’m sure. They’ve been together for eight months, and Mal was the one to break it off.” Emma pushes away the thought of _Emma means nothing to me_ and continues. “Pretty sure Regina’s running back to her with open arms.”

            She knows she’s sulking, but she can’t help it. Things had been _good_. She’d actually let herself believe for a moment that she and Regina could…

            It doesn’t matter what she thought they could have done. It’s not going to happen. Not after Mal showed up with a bouquet of roses and _Emma means nothing to me_ and a hushed, “Do you want to get back together?”

            She shakes her head, glancing around for that waitress. She could use her burger right about now.

            “Oh, Ems, I’m sorry.”

            “Yeah,” she grumbles. “Me too.”

            They talk for a few more minutes, Ruby offering comforting words and Dorothy offering to punch both Regina and Mal in the face, which garners a chuckle from Emma at least.

            When they end the call, Emma feels a little bit better, having spilled her guts after keeping everything to herself for the past few days. She tries for a sip of hot chocolate and finds that it’s just the right temperature and doesn’t burn her tongue.

            The diner’s pretty empty. It’s the day after Christmas, so the lack of people doesn’t surprise her, but it’s still eerie to be one of three customers in the whole joint.

            Just as she thinks of it, the bell rings, and a woman in a white, fluffy coat enters. Emma doesn’t recognize her at first, but as the stranger removes her scarf, she realizes it’s Mary Nolan.

            The woman doesn’t notice her at first. Instead, she crosses to the bar to chat with the elderly woman tending it (whom Emma also recognizes from the party). They seem to have a pleasant conversation before Mary turns around to seat herself. That’s when she and Emma make eye contact.

            Mary seems surprised to see her but politely smiles, waves, and approaches the table. Emma supposes that since Regina’s out of sight, Mary must think that it’s okay to talk to her now.

            “Mal. Hi. How was your Christmas?” she asks tentatively.

            “Good,” Emma replies. “Yours?”

            “It was lovely.”

            Emma raises her eyebrows at the adjective but doesn’t comment.

            “Neal just loves his gifts. He’s been playing with them all day.”

            Mary’s comment about her baby makes Emma half-smile. She decides to humor the brunette (if she’s stuck in this diner/town for another few hours with nothing to do and no one to talk to, at least this will keep her busy for a few minutes).

            “What kind of toys did he get?”

            “Oh, you know. Some stuffed animals, some things that light up and make noise… he got some books, too, but he doesn’t think they’re very interesting right now.”

            Emma chuckles. “Well, babies aren’t too fond of War and Peace. Maybe try some with pictures next time.”

            Mary gives her an irritated – yet playful – look. “Ha. Ha. They’re all fairytales with wonderful illustrations. You know, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Jack and the Beanstalk…”

            “Ah, I get it.”

            A moment of silence passes before Mary asks, “So where’s Regina?”

            “At the hospital.”

            Mary’s eyes go wide. “Is she okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Zelena went into labor.”

            “Oh, wow! That’s exciting! When did that happen?”

            Emma checks the time on her phone. “About an hour ago.”

            “Oh, then she still has a long way to go, yet.”

            “Yeah.”

            Another pause occurs, during which Mary’s eyes shift to the vacant side of the booth. Emma knows she’s waiting for an invitation, but knowing what she knows now about the woman, she doesn’t want to give her one.

            “So why are you here instead of at the hospital?”

            “Too crowded,” she lies with a shrug.

            Mary scrunches her eyebrows together, clearly not believing her, and the brunette’s eyes glide over the table, stopping on something with a flash of interest. Emma glances down and realizes her bus ticket is in plain view.

            “You have a bus ticket.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Oh,” the woman replies, deflating a bit. “You’re not going back with Regina?”

            Emma shakes her head, trying to decide how much she should reveal to the woman she barely knows and whom Regina hates.

            “We kind of broke up.”

            Instantly, Mary’s expression turns sympathetic, a gloved hand flying to her chest.

            “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

            Just then, the waitress arrives with Emma’s food. Mary steps aside briefly so she can set it on the table. When the waitress is gone, Emma picks up a fry, swipes it through a puddle of ketchup, and pops it into her mouth. “Not really.”

            They fall into an awkward silence, Emma deciding to take her first bite of burger (the best one she’s ever had, and that’s _saying_ something) while Mary stands by the table, waiting for… who knows what. Emma’s not sure how to fill the silence between them, now that her duty to be Regina’s ‘girlfriend’ is over.

            “That’s so sad, breaking up the day after Christmas.”

            Emma’s not sure if she should be mad at Mary for bringing up the topic again after she explicitly told her not to or touched that the woman feels sympathy for her. Instead, she feigns apathy, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.

            They fall into silence for a few minutes more, Emma preferring to avoid the topic and Mary trying to figure out what to say next. Mary slides into the bench across from Emma, and the blonde instantly wants to kick her oute.

            “I remember when things were rough with David.”

            Emma scoffs, unable to believe that the woman who’d had an affair with someone would have the audacity to compare their situations.

            “Says the woman he cheated on his wife with.”

            Mary winces at the blow, but continues.

            “I wanted to tell Kathryn. I wanted to come clean to her the whole time, but David didn’t want to hurt her. He even agreed that he would tell her the truth. But he didn’t, and she found out from someone else.”

            “Regina.”

            Mary closes her eyes. “Yes.”

            Emma can see in Mary’s expression that the woman regrets what they’d done and the pain that they’d caused. She sees that Mary is genuinely sorry, but… “I don’t think that excuses either of you from having an affair.”

            “No, you’re right, it doesn’t.”

            “So what’s your point?”

            Exasperated, Mary huffs and places both hands on the table.

            “I was so mad at David for not telling her about us even after we agreed that we should. We almost gave up right there.”

            “Well, you must not have taken long to forgive him, especially since you both were okay with cheating in the first place...”

            “Mal, will you just listen to me? My point is, we didn’t give up. We all deserve to find love, no matter where it comes from.”

            “Look, I’ve had someone cheat on me before, and let me tell you, it sucks ass.”

            Mary stutters, trying to explain herself. “I’m not saying you should cheat on your partner to find it, but David and Kathryn’s marriage was over long before it actually ended. I feel horrible about what we’ve done, but there’s nothing we can do to take it back now.”

            Emma thinks back to Lily begging for forgiveness, even after all the horrible things she’d done, and how Emma had almost wanted to forgive her. Lily seemed to feel so guilty after hurting Emma so much, but that didn’t stop her from doing it in the first place, did it?

            “You could have waited until their marriage officially ended. You could have waited until they got a divorce.”

            Mary shakes her head. “David may have cheated on his wife, but otherwise, he’s an honorable man. He never would have left her if it hadn’t been for me.”

            “An honorable man who cheated on his wife.”

            “I’m saying David would have stayed forever in that loveless marriage. They tried to make it work. They tried, and they tried, but she just wasn’t the one for him. And he never would have found the right one for him if he hadn’t decided to look for it.”

            “Yeah, I think you two are perfect for each other,” Emma mumbles, glancing back down at her dinner.

            “You’re missing the point!”

            Emma slams the table with both hands, making the other woman jump. She no longer cares about the food in front of her, the bus she’s going to catch, or the confusing woman she’d been pretending to date. The other patrons glance her way with annoyance, but she doesn’t care about them, either.

            “And what’s the point, huh? That cheating’s okay if it’s with your ‘true love?’” Emma grimaces. “I thought I had that, before, with someone else, but my girlfriend cheated on me and left me in the dust. How do you think that feels?”

            In the smallest voice she’s ever heard, Mary says, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

            “No, you don’t know what that’s like.”

            Emma picks up her burger again, trying to shut Mary out and dismiss her from the table.

            “But now you have Regina.”

            Raising a hand to her forehead, Emma winces. This is all so complicated. She’s not _really_ dating Regina. She had never _really_ been with Regina in the first place. There was that could’ve-been-would’ve-been feeling after they made up and decided to keep pretending, but that doesn’t equate to actually being together. She doesn’t really _have_ anyone, hasn’t had anyone since Lily left not so long ago. And because of that, she doesn’t _want_ anyone. Doesn’t want to open her heart again only to have another person break it. That’s the only thing that ever comes from her relationships – heartbreak. Nothing will ever convince her otherwise.

            “Go back, try again with her.”

            But there’s something about Regina that makes her almost want to try again, for real this time. Except she’s sure Cora will murder them both if Emma ever shows her face again. There’s no way they can ever actually _be_ anything.

            She can’t go back. They don’t even know each other. There’s nothing between them and there never will be. There’s nothing to even fix, since they were never together in the first place.

            “I can’t.”

            “You owe it to yourself to find out if she’s the one for you.”

            Emma barks a dry laugh. “Trust me, she’s not ‘the one.’” She lifts her hands to make air quotes around the words _the one_ and gives it as much sarcasm as she can. _Emma means nothing to me_.

            “Just… try. Please. You both look so happy with each other. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But just give it another chance.” She leans forward, as if what’s coming next is her big point. “If it’s meant to be, it will all work out in the end.”

            Seemingly finished with her speech, Mary gives her a little nod, rises from her seat, and heads back to the bar. Emma stares after her, narrowing her eyes at the strangest hope speech she’s ever received (and she’s friends with Ruby, who’s given her a _lot_ of strange encouragement). David cheated on his wife with Mary. Mary was okay with it (though she regretted it). She should be the last person Emma takes advice from.

            But in some strange way, it makes sense. Despite what they did, despite being the scumbags they are, when Emma saw Mary and David at the party, they looked… happy.

            _If it’s meant to be, it will all work out in the end._

            Fuck this. She’s not going back. There’s no reason to go back. Doing so will only cause more heartbreak.

            But, she muses as she chews on another fry, if Regina happens to come after her later, she might not say no.


	13. December 26 – 5:25pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, dear readers! We still have two more chapters, and I promise there's a happy ending.  
> This section's a bit heavier, as there are some conversations that Regina needs to have and they might not be too pretty.  
> Just as a precaution: there will be brief talk of Regina's infertility.

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 5:25pm

            No one expects anybody to be pleasant or cheery while giving birth – however, if Zelena were to be ranked on a scale from Unpleasant to Over-dramatic, she’d easily pull an earsplitting and insufferable Amy Poehler from _Baby Mama_.

            As Regina, Henry, Mal, Hunter, and Kelly sit in the waiting room of the maternity ward, they periodically hear her screams echo off the walls.

            Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring the kids along right away.

            Regardless, they’re here now, and it’s only a matter of time until the baby arrives.

            Walsh and Cora are currently in the birthing room, helping Zelena and encouraging her in any way they can. When Regina arrived with the kids, Henry informed her that he, Regina, and Cora would rotate shifts so that each of them can have a break and a turn with Zelena. Not all of them are allowed in there at once, and obviously someone should watch the kids during all of this.

            Since then, the three adults have been sitting in silence as the kids sprawl out on one of the couches, playing with the toys they brought to keep them occupied.

            Regina folds her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting. Her once love of her life sits patiently beside her, their shoulders just barely brushing.

            There _is_ a part of her that wants Mal back. That misses regular date nights and surprise work visits. That yearns for the times they comforted each other in their losses and built each other up despite insecurity. There’s a part of her that wants to revive their late nights studying or talking or making love in the quiet dark.

            But there’s another part of her that reminds her of how Mal had reacted to her infertility. A part that reminds Regina that Mal had said their visions for the future were too different. A part that instead longs for another woman, someone who had seen her family, put up with them, and still came back voluntarily for Regina. Mal hadn’t even _met_ her family until tonight.

            An hour passes. The kids are beginning to get restless, changing their positions every few minutes and going back and forth between tasks and games more rapidly. Zelena’s shouting still occasionally reaches them in the waiting room, but there’s no baby. No one’s said a word, aside from comments toward or from the children. The television’s set to the news station and intersperses crime reports with cheerful holiday stories. They could be here for a whole day, even two, before Zelena gives birth. Regina would have to take the kids back home and deal with their cries of protest and disappointment at not meeting their baby brother or sister.

            Finally, after another forty-five minutes, Hunter complains that he’s hungry. Kelly latches onto her brother’s whining immediately and gripes about her own hunger.

            Regina stands. “I’ll take you two down to the cafeteria.”

            “There’s food here?” Hunter questions skeptically.

            “Yes. Why don’t you pack your things into your bags and then I’ll take you?”

            As the kids quickly put away their toys, excited at the prospect of food, Henry addresses Regina.

            “I’ll take them, sweetheart. Don’t trouble yourself.”

            “No, I’ve got it,” Regina says, eyeing her father and trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

            “No, I insist.”

            “Why don’t you both go?” Mal interjects. Regina and Henry turn to her and examine the tired look on her face. “I’ll wait here in case anything happens.”

            Regina glances from her father to her… Mal. “Are you sure?”

            Mal seems to sense that there’s a conversation Regina and Henry need to have and nods. “Of course. Bring me an iced tea?”

            Nodding, Regina offers Mal a half-smile as she and her father escort Kelly and Hunter towards the elevator.

            When they get to the cafeteria, both Kelly and Hunter are overwhelmed, stopping to gape at all of their choices. Henry and Regina, of course, understand that it’s just a small hospital cafeteria, but even so, the children, enthralled, wander through the area in awe.

            Regina and Henry briefly argue about who will pay, each offering to cover everyone’s dinner. Henry wins, paying for all four of their meals. They sit down at a nearby table and let the kids run most of the conversation, which consists of mindless chatter (and endless questions) about the hospital cafeteria or the baby that’s supposed to be coming any time now.

            After they finish their food, they head back to the maternity ward. When Mal comes into view, Regina stops them where they currently stand in the hallway and addresses Hunter and Kelly.

            “Why don’t you two run ahead and sit with Mal? We’ll be over in a minute,” Regina says. The kids run towards Mal, and when she looks up in surprise, Regina holds up a finger and offers an apologetic smile.

            Once Regina and Henry are alone, they move to a nearby wall to stand out of the way of passing doctors, nurses, and patients, preparing themselves for the conversation they need to have.

            Immediately, Regina starts into her apology.

            “Daddy, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes fall to her feet, too ashamed to even look at the disappointment that’s surely etched into his face.

            What surprises her, however, is her father’s arms instantly surrounding her, holding her tightly as he whispers soothing words into her ear.

            “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

            She allows herself to take in his embrace, even hug him back, but after a moment, she pulls away. She doesn’t deserve his sympathy.

            “I’m so sorry, Daddy. I never meant to hurt anyone by doing this.”

            Understanding that Regina needs some space, he doesn’t pull her in for another hug, but simply puts a comforting hand on her arm.

            “It’s okay,” he consoles. “I’m not angry. I’m just confused. Why did you go to all this trouble in the first place? Why did you think you needed to do this?”

            Regina braves a glance at him and realizes that he’s telling the truth. Her father’s never had much of a temper, so she didn’t think he’d be angry, but she’s honestly surprised that he’s more confused than upset.

            It’s this calm, considerate response that prompts Regina to tell the truth.

            “I just wanted to stop being a disappointment.”

            Henry’s eyebrows furrow. “Who said you were a disappointment?”

            Licking her lips, Regina words her next phrase carefully. She loves her mother, and Henry does, too. “You know how she can be. She doesn’t say it, but…”

            Trying to wave it off and reassure her, Henry offers a knowing smile and replies, “Oh, that’s just how your mother is. She thinks she knows best and will find anything to complain about.”

            Regina’s eyes fall to her feet again. “Yes, well, after this, I’m sure she thinks I’m an even bigger disappointment.” She crosses her arms, afraid that Henry agrees with the sentiment.

            Instead, Henry tucks a finger under her chin and brings her eyes back to his. She sees understanding in his eyes as he says, “Regina, you are not a disappointment. Your mother and I are so _proud_ of you. We are proud of your accomplishments, what you’ve done at work. We are proud of the way you carry yourself with confidence and spirit.” He frowns. “Maybe we haven’t made much of an effort lately to tell you so, but we are. You are a beautiful, amazing woman, and I’m proud to call you my daughter.”

            By now, Regina’s eyes have welled up to the brim and are threatening to overflow. Henry’s never criticized her in the same way Cora does, but he’s never argued either. Although her parents are capable of having different opinions, Regina’s always been afraid that Cora’s words – sometimes supportive but mostly critical – stood for them both.

            Now, Henry’s telling her that not only is _he_ proud of her, but that Cora, despite her many objections, feels the same (somewhere deep, deep inside her).

            “Thank you, Daddy.”

            “You’re welcome, my dear.” He leans forward and hugs her again, and this time, Regina accepts it, hugging him tightly to her.

            When they pull apart, Henry asks, “Now, what are you going to do about Mal?”

            “Pardon?”

            He shrugs. “I hope you plan to forgive her. It’s never healthy to hold a grudge against someone else.”

            Regina nods. Daddy’s never been one for holding or encouraging grudges. If their exchange from moments ago shows anything, it’s that he forgives more easily than he fights, and he’s raised her to be the same way. “I know, Daddy.”

            He takes her hands and squeezes them, inquiring in a voice that holds no expectation, “Are you planning to get back together with her?”

            Glancing at the woman down the hall, leaning over Kelly and Hunter as they color in their coloring books, Regina shrugs. “I don’t know.”

            A playful, knowing smile flashes across his features, another question clearly in his mind. “Now, don’t lie to me this time. I want to know about Mal, the real Mal.”

            Regina nods patiently and waits for his next query.

            “Do you love her?”

            Caught off-guard – but not surprised – at his repeated question, she chuckles before growing serious.

            “I don’t know.” Again, she glances at the blonde, remembering the way their crimson lips crashed together as if they were each other’s only source of oxygen, remembering how certain Regina had been about proposing to her. “I did.”

            “Does she treat you right?”

            Regina watches Mal smile tentatively at the children, thinking back to her eight months with her. There had been the usual things: flowers, chocolates, hugs, and kisses. The sex had been _great_. Sure, they had argued – maybe more than a usual couple would – but they had always made up afterward. Mal had treated her with utmost care until two weeks ago, when everything went wrong.

            “She did.”

            Henry nods, understanding that her answer doesn’t mean _yes_ , but that it doesn’t mean _no_ , either.

            “What about this other girl? Emma?” he prods.

            “What about her?”

            Shrugging, he questions, “Does _she_ treat you right?”

            Crossing her arms, Regina reflects over the weekend they’d shared. Emma had started off completely unreliable, her tendency to spill coffee setting them backwards in the plan and irritating Regina to no end. She’d almost ruined their front several times.

            But, she muses, Emma had jumped in when Cora’s questioning about children became too much, even bringing up adoption before Regina said anything about it. She’d listened to Regina’s confession on Christmas Eve, respected it, and reached out to comfort her. When Kelly and Hunter had come downstairs in the middle of the night, Emma took control of the situation and saved them. Although Emma panicked and said _yes_ to the proposal, the blonde had taken responsibility for it and was willing to play along. When Cora started to give her a hard time about their “break-up” the day after, Emma had come back, even though she wasn’t obligated to, and saved her from her mother’s criticism.

            Emma had saved their asses numerous times over the weekend, complementing Regina’s words and actions with their own. They made a good team.

            At Regina’s lack of an answer, Henry continues.

            “Do you love her?”

            She thinks of the sorrow she’d felt when Emma left the first time. The joy she felt when the blonde had returned. The hopeful feeling she’d had earlier today, when she thought that maybe, somehow, they could find a way to make it real. The disappointment she’d felt when she realized Emma would leave again.

            Regina looks down at her feet. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

            Henry smiles, squeezing her hand. “I can’t say anything about Mal because I don’t know her, but I’ve seen the way Emma makes you smile.”

            Hearing her father speak about Emma sparks a small blush, and Regina feels a warm fluttering in her gut.

            “She’s even put up with your mother, which is quite a feat, I must say.” This garners a chuckle from her. “I can’t tell you what to do, my dear. You’re capable of making your own choices. All I can say is follow your heart, and I will support you and whatever decision you make.”

            Regina wipes at the tears on her cheeks and leans forward to hug him again.  “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            She knows what she wants to do then. She can’t go forward with Mal, especially if she has these unresolved feelings for Emma. Before this weekend, if Regina had never met Emma, she would have taken Mal back in an instant. Now that she knows Emma, however, she can’t say she’d be completely satisfied in a relationship with Mal without knowing if she and Emma could have something better.

            And to be honest, Mal breaking up with her had hurt. Even though she’ll probably forgive her (if she hasn’t already), she can’t help the fear that Mal could break this off again, whenever she wants. Regina hadn’t known that anything was wrong in the first place – there might not be any warning if it happened a second time. She wants to be in tune with her lover. She wants to know if her girlfriend’s upset or something’s not working. She wants a relationship where they both communicate. And certainly their holiday breakup shows Regina that she and Mal can’t communicate. Not well, at least.

            So as her father takes a seat near the kids, she calls Mal over to her.

            The tall blonde approaches, and Regina hands her a bottle of tea.

            “Thanks,” Mal says.

            They stand silently for a moment, Regina searching for the right words and Mal waiting patiently.

            “I don’t know how to say this…” she begins, but Mal stops her.

            “You want to stay broken up.”

            Regina frowns, Mal’s words too clipped and direct. They sounded so apathetic, so emotionless, like they’re merely discussing dinner plans as opposed to the future of their relationship.

            “I’m sorry, I…”

            “I understand.” Mal nods, the look on her face full of resolve. “It’s okay. Honestly, I saw it coming.”

            This time, Regina furrows her brow.

            “You did?”

            Nodding again, Mal smiles, not unkindly.

            “When I first found out what you’d done, I was angry. And pretty jealous.”

            Regina glances to the floor, embarrassed and ashamed that she’d made Mal feel this way. “I’m so sor-”

            “Please, Regina, let me finish.” Mal straightens, takes a deep breath, and continues. “I was so, so angry, but mostly at myself. I couldn’t believe that I had actually let you go, had motivated you to go out and find someone else in my place.”

            Closing her eyes, Regina tries to apologize again.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to replace y-”

            But Mal won’t have any of it. She holds up her hand to stop Regina.

            “Please, don’t be sorry. I gave up my claim to you the second I decided to break up with you.” Mal closes her eyes. “It was a stupid decision, because it only took me until I got back to my apartment to realize the mistake I made. I wanted to take it back right away, but I was afraid that if I asked for forgiveness, you would never forgive me, and you’d never take me back.”

            Regina nods as she listens, hearing the honesty in the woman’s voice. “I think I’ve already forgiven you. And if you would have come back before Christmas, I probably would have taken you back. But…”

            Mal smiles grimly. “But her.”

            Regina hesitates for a moment, then nods, unable to deny it. “But her.”

            Glancing up at the ceiling before meeting Regina’s eyes again, Mal says, “You know, when I first saw her, when I saw the way you looked at her, I knew I could never compete with that. You may have been ready to marry me, but I know you would have been settling for less. It’s been months since you looked at me the way you looked at her.”

            Regina’s stomach clenches.

            “We may have been okay together, but you deserve more than just _okay_.”

            “Mal, I –”

            “I just want you to be happy. And if she makes you happy, then I think you should be with her.”

            Shaking her head, Regina tries to say something that will stop Mal from looking so damn _sad_. “We’ve only known each other for a couple of days…”

            Mal shakes her own head, a watery, betraying smile gracing her scarlet lips. “But if you took me back, I know you’d be wondering what life would have been like with her.”

            Regina doesn’t respond. Mal’s right.

            Mal shoulders her purse. “Listen, I think you should try things with her, first. But if it doesn’t work out between you two, call me.”

            With that, Mal leaves, brushing by Regina as she heads for the elevators.

            Once Mal’s out of sight, Regina sighs, relieved that it hadn’t gotten messier. She feels bad that she’d hurt Mal in this, but with her blessing, Regina figures maybe she should give things with Emma a try.

            She reenters the waiting room, settling down beside her father. He nods at her, and she nods back. They’re okay.

            A couple of hours pass. Regina turns her phone over in her hand, wondering how far outside of Storybrooke Emma is and whether or not she should text her now. Things with her family are still uncertain – maybe she should fix those problems first. And what if Emma actually doesn’t want to be together? Maybe she only came back because Regina needed her to keep pretending, and Regina was only imagining the chemistry between them. Or maybe Emma did like her, but once she leaves Storybrooke, she’ll change her mind and blame the feelings on being cooped up in the same house for a weekend.

            Cora’s sudden appearance startles Regina out of her thoughts.

            She won’t look at Regina. Kelly and Hunter light up at her appearance, questioning excitedly, “Did the baby come? Did the baby come?”

            Smiling at them, she shakes her head in the negative and adds, “Not yet,” eliciting soft groans from both as they return to their coloring pages. She beelines for Henry, points down the hallway, and says, “You’re up.”

            “Mother,” Regina tries, but before Henry can even rise from his seat, Cora’s shaking her head and heading in the opposite direction.

            “I can’t even look at you right now.” As quickly as she’d come, she disappears again, down the hallway that leads to the restrooms and, eventually, the cafeteria. Regina sighs. The altercation coming up surely can’t be good.

            Henry offers her a small smile of support as he leaves for the delivery room.

            Cora’s gone for nearly an hour, and Regina can only imagine the woman seated in the cafeteria, fuming over a plate of mediocre spaghetti and testing how long she can stay down there and avoid her daughter.

            When the woman returns, Regina doesn’t say anything this time, expecting to get shut down again. If Cora decides she wants to talk, she will. Instead, Regina watches as her mother crosses the room and perches on an armchair near the couch where Hunter and Kelly are playing, her posture rigid.

            The women watch the kids play for a while, occasionally chiming in when the children ask them questions or ask them to play, but neither make an effort to talk to each other.

            After several minutes, Walsh makes his way over to them, and the kids light up with excitement, instantly bombarding their dad with questions.

            “Is the baby here?”

            “Did Mommy have the baby?”

            “Can we see it?”

            “What’s it look like?”

            Walsh chuckles and kneels next to them. “No, your brother or sister isn’t here yet, but the doctors said you can go see Mommy for a few minutes.”

            Elated, the kids instantly bound towards the delivery room, and Walsh has to remind them not to run and to keep quiet. Regina wonders if the kids are being brought back on purpose – does the rest of the family know that Cora and Regina have a burning conversation – or argument – to be had?

            Regardless, it doesn’t matter because now they’re alone (besides the other patients, doctors, and nurses moving about the waiting room and the hospital). Here’s their chance to have a talk semi-privately.

            Folding her hands in her lap and straightening her already strict posture, Cora begins in a low voice, “I have no words for the stunt you and that silly girl pulled.”

            Regina sits a bit straighter, willing herself to sit through whatever lecture Cora’s prepared; Cora may _say_ she has no words, but Regina’s certain she’s chosen at least a few hundred.

            “I’m sorry, Mother, I –”

            “Did I ask for an apology, dear? You’re not sorry you did it, only sorry you got caught.”

            Cora inclines her head a bit, glaring down her nose at Regina, who fights the urge to squirm beneath her gaze.

            “I can’t even begin to express how _disappointed_ I am in you, Regina. Out of all the stunts and acts you’ve pulled, this is the most outrageous.”

            “I was only trying to –”

            “Whatever half-baked excuse you’ve come up with, I don’t want to hear it. There is no excuse for bringing a stranger into my home, lying to us all, and fooling us into believing such a ridiculous tale. You’ve never done anything more childish or cowardly than this.”

            “I’m not a coward,” Regina mumbles, frustrated at the way her voice sounds small and timid. She’s sat through numerous Cora Lectures, but she’s an adult. This is an adult problem. She can handle this.

            Cora laughs humorlessly. “You’re not? Tell me, what’s so brave about having a stranger pretend to be your partner after your original one dumped you? You played us like the fools you must think we are. Did you get what you wanted from all of this?”

            “This isn’t a game to me,” Regina bites back, gathering her courage.

            “Oh? You’re saying you didn’t derive _any_ enjoyment from making the rest of us suffer? To have us blindly falling for your tricks?”

            “It wasn’t about making fun of you!” Regina insists, standing up to give herself more strength.

            Cora stands as well, matching her height as they look at each other face-to-face.

            “You mean, this lie, this sham you concocted _wasn’t_ about mocking us all?”

            “No.”

            “Then what? Because regardless of your intentions, you’ve certainly succeeded in hurting us all.”

            “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted you to be happy with me for once.”

            “Well, you certainly didn’t achieve that. In fact, you managed to do the _opposite_. I couldn’t be more upset with you than I am right now.”

            Regina runs a hand through her hair, searching for the right words. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

            “So you say.”

            “I just wanted to be good enough for once.”

            “I’m sorry, you think that _lying_ to our faces would make you honorable in any way?”

            “No, that’s not it…”

            “Well, you’re mistaken. This little hoax you’ve pulled has cost you every ounce of trust I’ve ever had in you.”

            “You’ve _never_ trusted me, Mother.”

            “Of course I have, dear.”

            “Not enough to make my own decisions.”

            “I trust you to make your own decisions. You’ve become a fine businesswoman, and, until now, the rest of your life seemed to be going pretty well.”

            Regina scoffs. “Like you really believe that.”

            “I did. Until you _lied_ to us.”

            “You’re not listening to me, Mother!” Regina hates the way she sounds like a child throwing a tantrum. It does nothing to help her prove that she’s a capable adult. “I lied because you always criticize everything I do.”

            “I only want you to strive for perfection, dear. That’s not a bad thing.”

            “It is when your standard is impossible to reach.”

            Cora’s brow furrows in confusion, and Regina realizes that Cora might actually have no idea what she’s been doing. She elaborates.

            “You criticize my appearance, my job, my friends… and most significantly, my romantic life.”

            “I’m not sure what you mean,” Cora insists, still seeming puzzled. “If I ever make a comment or suggestion to you, I’m only trying to help.”

            “But I don’t _need_ your help, Mother. I don’t _need_ you meddling in my love life when I’m doing just fine on my own.”

            “Forgive me for being frank, but you were dumped last weekend.”

            “When have you ever apologized for being frank?” Regina questions. “And yes, maybe things weren’t working out with Mal, but it doesn’t help when all you do is pressure me.”

            “Well, if I’m ever a bit forceful, it’s just because I don’t want to see you waste your life chasing mindless flings and relationships that don’t last. Especially when you’re planning to have children. These things need to be thought through in advance, you know…”

            “I _know_ , Mother. You’ve told me thousands of times.”

            “Well, if you’re still without a partner this late in your life, clearly the message hasn’t set in.”

            Regina lets out a growl of frustration. “I _do_ want kids, Mother. I’m _trying_. But it’s so hard to take things at the right pace with you breathing down my neck asking for grandchildren. Yes, this is something I want, but I don’t need your help. I can do this on my own.”

            “I’m sorry, dear. I’m only trying to help.”

            Regina shakes her head. “You pressuring me _doesn’t help_. It just makes it worse. It makes me feel like a failure even though I haven’t done anything wrong. When I have kids – and whether or not I have them in the first place – is not your decision to make.”

            Cora reaches out for Regina’s hand. “Of course, it’s always your decision. I only want what’s best for you.”

            Regina pulls her hand from Cora’s reach. “Then stop meddling. Please. I’m capable of making my own decisions about having a family. I don’t need you constantly nagging me about how I’m running out of time to find a partner.”

            Cora takes her hand back, lips setting into a thin line. “I see. You want me out of your life.”

            Seeing the effect her words are having on her mother, Regina jumps in, her voice a bit gentler. “Not completely. I still want you in my life. I still love you. I just need you to give me some time and space. I need you to stop asking where my wife is every time I stop and visit.”

            Closing her eyes, Cora bows her head. “You thought that if you brought that girl along, I wouldn’t bother you about finding someone to be with.”

            Regina dips her head as well, realizing how hurtful it sounded coming from Cora’s mouth. “Yes.”

            Sighing in realization, Cora says, “I told you to propose to her. And you did it to stop me from asking more of you.”

            Moving aside some of the kids’ toys, Regina plops down on the couch. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I promise, I wasn’t trying to hurt you or Daddy or anyone else. I just wanted you to be happy with me for once.”

            Cora sighs again, settling down next to her daughter. “No, I’m sorry. Now that I look back, I realize… you might be right. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me the truth.”

            A half-smile flickers across Regina’s face before disappearing. She’s not sure she’s ever heard her mother apologize for _anything_ before.

            “I’ll try to be better,” she continues. “I can’t promise to be perfect, but I will try not to pressure you as much. I just don’t want to see you miss the chance to have a few wonderful children of your own.”

            Regina smiles grimly. Now’s as good a time as any to tell her that _other_ truth. Waiting will only further the comments about pregnancy and biological clocks, no matter how hard Cora might try to avoid them.

            “Actually, Mother, there’s something I need to tell you.”

            Cora watches her daughter’s face, trying to detect the news before she hears it. Regina looks right back, suddenly wondering if she can really go through with this. Her mother will be devastated.

            “What is it?” Cora asks, and her voice is full of care and concern, unlike anything Regina’s heard all weekend – heck, possibly, in the last several years – and Regina thinks that maybe Cora won’t react as badly as she’s expecting.

            She takes a deep breath. “I can’t get pregnant.”

            She folds her hands in her lap and lets the news sink in. Cora’s eyes widen in shock, but at least she doesn’t seem to be angry.

            “I found out a few months ago, while I was dating Mal. I’ve been afraid to tell you because I know how much you want to see me have a child.”

            She can see it in Cora’s eyes – the desire to say something critical, to propose a solution, to suggest a cause or a treatment – but surprisingly, Cora fights this desire and offers none of the above.

            Instead, Cora’s hand finds one of Regina’s. “I’m sorry. Both for this and for making it seem like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

            Regina, shocked, lets out a small gasp. Two apologies in one sitting. Must be a new record.

            She squeezes her mother’s hand. “Thank you.”

            Cora seems like she has more questions – possibly about how this happened or what this means – but suddenly Kelly and Hunter reappear, pouncing on their laps.

            “We’re back!”

            The women chuckle.

            “How’s your mother?” Regina asks.

            Kelly wrinkles her brow. “Really sweaty. Kinda gross. No baby yet.”

            “The doctors kicked us out. Now we’re back here,” Hunter supplies. Zelena must have gotten another contraction, which neither of her kids need to see.

            “Whatcha doin?” Kelly asks, reaching for her bag.

            “We’re just talking,” Cora replies.

            “What about?”

            “Stuff.”

            “What kind of stuff?”

            Cora takes Kelly’s foot in her hand and wiggles it a little. “Nothing you need to worry about, dear. Grown-up stuff.”

            “Booooring,” Hunter chimes from Cora’s other side.

            Regina glances at her mother, and both offer a tentative smile and nod. The rest of their conversation can wait until later, when they’re out of the hospital and in a more private setting.

            Several minutes pass, during which Kelly and Hunter enlist Regina and Cora’s help to color in their books.

            Then, Henry emerges from the delivery room.

            “Regina, you can go see your sister now.”

            Smiling, Regina nods her thanks and heads for Zelena’s room, but partway down the hall, she feels a tug on her arm.

            It’s Cora. She stops walking so her mother can talk.

            “Yes?”

            Cora smiles just a little bit. “You know, that girl… what was her name?”

            “Emma.”

            “Emma…” Regina feels her heart pound in her chest. What could Mother possibly have to say about her? “She… I told her to leave, said some… terrible things, and you know what she said to me?” When Regina doesn’t reply, she answers herself. “She said, ‘Have you ever thought about what Regina wants?’ And I just brushed it off at the time. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to keep you on track… but I was wrong. She was right. I haven’t been thinking about what you want. Only what I want for you.”

            Regina hears the apology in her voice and reaches out to take one of her mother’s hands.

            “Thank you.”

            She squeezes for a moment before dropping it and heading through the door to Zelena’s room.

            Inside, Zelena’s propped up in a hospital bed, wearing a blue hospital gown and slicked with sweat. Her mane of red hair runs wild, curls fanned out in all directions. Walsh, who seems a bit frantic at his wife’s current state, hands Zelena a glass of water.

            The redhead sips from the cup and brightens when she spots Regina.

            “Hey, sis.”

            “Hey. How’s it going in here?”

            Handing Walsh the empty glass and thanking him, Zelena flashes a sarcastic smile. “Oh, just great. You know, giving birth is just like going to the spa. I feel so _pampered_ and _relaxed_. I’m thinking about visiting the mud bath later, would you like to join me?”

            Regina rolls her eyes. “Okay, I get it. You’re giving birth, not visiting a five-star hotel.”

            Zelena points to an empty stool on her left side – Walsh is perpetually situated at her right – and Regina follows her instructions and takes a seat.

            “Walsh, can you give us a minute?”

            His eyes widen, and he seems reluctant to leave his wife, as if missing even a minute of her hours-long labor will have serious consequences.

            “Please? You’re due for a break anyway. Go to the bathroom, get a drink, get me another wet towel if you want. Just please, give me a minute alone with my sister.”

            She smiles and bats her eyes at her husband, who, after a moment of debate, turns and leaves.

            When the door closes, Zelena furrows her brow and folds her hands over her bulging stomach. 

            “Where’s Emma?”  

            Regina’s stomach plummets, and her fingers absently trace the ring’s shape through the pocket in her pants.

            “Gone.”

            Shaking her head in denial, Zelena grumbles, “Good grief. Not again.”

            Trying to seem nonchalant, Regina shrugs. “I don’t need a fake girlfriend anymore. She left.”

            Zelena narrows her eyes. “Where’s Mal?”

            “I told her I didn’t want to get back together with her. She’s gone, too.”

            The redhead jerks her head back and blinks. “And you haven’t gone after Emma yet?”

            Regina crosses her arms. “You’re in labor! I hardly think my love life matters right now. How are the contractions?”

            “Never mind my fucking contractions. Why are you letting her get away?”

            Regina licks her lips, unable to form a response; unable to explain how much it hurt to be so close to someone she couldn’t have, someone she’d fallen for but who certainly hadn’t fallen for her; unable to explain that now that Emma’s gone, she feels like there’s something missing; unable to explain that even though she could theoretically go after her, Regina isn’t sure that the blonde will even _want_ her if she does.

            Instead, she steels herself over, puts on her mask, unwilling to reveal any of her real feelings to her sister.

            “Why does it matter?”

            Zelena barks out a dry laugh.

            “You’re impossible.”

            She continues to laugh at something that’s apparently hilarious, but Regina just watches her carry on, wondering what could possibly make her sister laugh this hard.

            “Care to tell me what’s so funny?”

            Finally, Zelena calms down enough to say, “I brought her back because you guys are so obviously in love with each other and then you let her get away again.”

            The accusation makes Regina’s blood grow hot with embarrassment, anger, and even a bit of sadness. She crosses her arms and forces her reaction down, ready to deny the claim.

            “I do not lo-”

            “You do! You love her and yet you won’t let yourself be happy for even a moment.”

            Regina huffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

            “Yes, you _do_. I see the way you look at her. She makes you look the happiest I’ve seen you in years. You look so comfortable with her. You guys were _cuddling_ yesterday.”

            “Only because we were trying to –”

            “That’s bullshit, Regina, and we both know it.”

            The women fall silent, reaching a stand-off and both too stubborn to give up.

            “Why can’t you just let yourself be happy? Something good finally comes along, and as soon as you realize it, you push her out the door.”

            Regina swallows back a retort, barely holding back her anger at Zelena for meddling in things she shouldn’t. What makes her love life any of Zelena’s business anyway?

            “Go after her! Mal’s gone, for good this time. There’s nothing stopping you from being with Emma.”

            Hugging her stomach, Regina responds quietly, “What if Emma doesn’t want me?”

            Zelena’s got a smug little smile on her face as she says confidently, “She will.”

            Regina shakes her head. She won’t let herself get caught up in this again. She’s not going to put herself out there only to get shot down. Tomorrow, all of them will go back to their regular lives. Regina will return to work and, afterwards, enlist the help of a bottle of cider to forget about this entire mess. And Emma’s going back to Boston, to that coffee shop where they first met, and probably will have forgotten about Regina by the time she clocks in for her next shift.

            Regina glances at the clock on the wall.

            “Well, it doesn’t really matter how I feel about her. The bus for Boston probably left already.”

            “Or maybe it didn’t. You should –”

            Suddenly, Zelena cries out in pain.

            “Are you getting another contraction?”

            Zelena shoots her an exasperated look. “No, I’m screaming because I won the lottery. Yes, I’m having a contraction,” she snaps, wincing.

            Immediately, Regina jumps into action, reaching for her hand as Walsh rushes back into the room to grab her other one. He must have heard her yell.

            “What do you need me to do?”

            She cries out again and squeezes her eyes shut in pain. “I _need_ you to stop Emma from leaving.”

            “Zelena, I can’t –”

            “Look, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little tied up at the moment, so I can’t go get her again for you. You’re going to have to do this yourself.”

            Regina doesn’t move, unwilling to leave her sister during labor, in the middle of a freaking _contraction_.

            This time, Zelena lets out a particularly loud shriek before yelling, “Regina, I swear to god, if you don’t go after Emma right now, I’m naming this child Pistachio!” She cries out again, the pain preventing her from saying anything more.

            The threat lacks its luster, given that the woman who made it currently isn’t in the position to be making any threats. Plus, Zelena would never _actually_ name her child Pistachio. Despite this, Regina knows that for her sister to yell at her about Emma _while in labor_ , the redhead would have to feel pretty strongly about it.

            “What if she –”

            “Regina Mills, you get your _ass_ over to the bus station or wherever the hell she’s at and _get her_!”

            At this, Regina scurries from the delivery room, not wanting to agitate her sister even more. As she leaves, Zelena’s next scream echoes all the way down the hall.

            “GET. IT. OUUUUUUT!”

*

            Regina runs the whole way to the bus station, calling Emma’s name all the way. She doesn’t care about the confused, judgmental looks she’s receiving. She doesn’t care how ridiculous she must seem, waving her arms and shouting like a drunk person. She doesn’t care that she’ll probably be the laughingstock of the entire town by morning. All she cares about is _Emma_ and catching the blonde before she leaves.

            Upon arriving at the bus station, Regina quickly checks the board for which one is headed to Boston. It’s due to leave any minute now.

            She races toward the bus, every so often shouting, “Emma!” as if by some miracle the blonde will hear her or the bus will wait to leave.

            The bus idles several yards ahead of her, its compartments below already shut and locked tight. Exhaust billows out from the back as the boarding doors close.

            Picking up her pace, Regina sprints toward the bus, waving her arms as she nears.

            A small hiss sounds, and the bus pulls forward.

            “No! No, wait!”

            But it’s too late.

            Emma’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chuckles nervously*


	14. December 28 – 1:24pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this has been a wild ride. I'm absolutely blown away by the response to this. I wasn't even sure if people would read it beyond the first chapter or two. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for reading and leaving your comments and kudos. Your support means the world to me, and I'm not sure I would have finished this if not for your responses. (It's been YEARS since the last time I've finished a multi-chapter story, fan fiction or original fiction, so this is a big deal for me.) I've had a decent holiday, but it's also been a little hard at times, so posting this and seeing your reactions has helped me through the rougher moments.  
> .  
> So... thank you. And now, without further ado, here's the final chapter (filled with so much fluff that you might actually gag)!

Wednesday, December 28, 2016 – 1:24pm

            Emma sighs as she restocks a sleeve of grande coffee cups, the task feeling mundane compared to the weekend she’d just had. Glumly, she wipes off one of the counters, trying not to think about… her.

            While unpacking her things Monday night (on her fourth shot of whiskey), Emma stumbled across the dragon scarf that Cora gave her. She could have – probably _should_ have – texted Regina and let her know she had it, but instead she’d hung it up with her other scarves and left her phone untouched. No one’s going to miss it, anyways.

            On Tuesday night, Emma and Ruby reconnected over a few beers on Emma’s couch as Ruby shared wild tales of her time in Kansas. She regaled over Dorothy’s family and the things they’d done together, which, among family Christmas traditions, included farm chores. City-bread Ruby was horrified by the substances going in and coming out of the animals, but eventually grew to love her girlfriend’s messy creatures. Apparently Ruby had gotten along spectacularly with everyone, including the three farmhands who accepted her right into their group. All in all, Ruby’s Christmas had been great, and, if anything, the trip drew the women closer together. Ruby can easily imagine returning the following year.

            Emma listened attentively to Ruby’s stories, but when Ruby asked about Emma’s Christmas, the blonde clammed up. She’d thought hard about it during her ride home and for the duration of the day, rethinking and overanalyzing every detail of the weekend. Ruby had already pried out the fact that Emma had feelings for Regina that couldn’t be reciprocated, and though talking about it had made it hurt less, Emma wasn’t really in the mood for another heart-to-heart.

            After all, it wasn’t a big deal. She met Regina’s family, did her job, and earned her money. Everything had gone almost to plan, except for the real Mal showing up unexpectedly.

            And, of course, those pesky things called _feelings_ that Emma tried to chase away Monday night (or was it Tuesday morning?) with a bottle of whiskey and a marathon of _Friends_.

            (When the sun rose, she woke with a hangover, but the pain in her head couldn’t compare with the ache in her heart.)

            Nonetheless, she’s happy that the whole ordeal is over with. Even if she’ll have to deal with these stupid feelings for the next however long. She’ll just have to get over it.

            She tried not to think about Regina.

            Tried not to think about _Emma means nothing to me_ and _do you want to get back together_.

            Tried not to think about Regina’s low, husky voice, the one that sailed smoothly over the notes as they sang with Henry’s sax; Regina’s small, soft hands, when they’d linked with Emma’s or touched her cheek; the way Regina’s eyes lit up when she talked to her niece and nephew; the way Regina had smiled as they danced on Christmas Eve and Christmas; the way Regina’s body had fit snugly with Emma’s on the morning it all went wrong; the way Regina’s lips tasted when they’d kissed under the mistletoe, after the proposal, after they made up from their fight; the way Regina had held her hand or touched her knee or snuggled into her side; the way Regina had noticed Emma was upset about Lily and offered comfort; the way Regina’s fingers gently grazed Emma’s skin as she cleaned up the blonde from her sledding accident; the way Regina rested her head on Emma’s shoulder; Regina’s dark, chocolate eyes; Regina; Regina; Regina.

            Yeah, Emma kind of failed at that.

            She knows she’s moping, but she just can’t help it.

            She doesn’t expect to see the brunette ever again, not after everything that happened.

            She _certainly_ doesn’t expect to see the brunette walking through the door halfway through her shift on Wednesday afternoon.

            Emma’s jaw drops in shock and awe, and she scrambles to close it again and pull an expression of indifference.

            Damn, she’s beautiful. Smooth coffee locks perfectly coiffed, dressed in a purple V-neck sweater paired with black slacks, dark red lipstick painted on her perfectly plump lips, Regina struts into the shop confidently and with a slight spark in those warm eyes.

            The flow of customers has slowed down a bit, so their conversation won’t be rushed or watched by onlookers.

            Emma thinks about running.

            Could this be any more embarrassing? Regina can’t expect them to act completely professionally toward each other – not after everything that had happened. Why the fuck can’t Regina just find another place to get coffee? There’s like 40 other Starbucks in Boston, and Emma’s pretty sure there’s one just up the street. Regina _knows_ Emma works at this one and she _has_ to know that this encounter is going to be awkward. Can’t she walk for like five more minutes and avoid this whole situation?

            Nonetheless, she’s here now, and there’s nowhere for Emma to run. She smiles thinly, refusing to meet the brunette’s eyes.

            “The usual?” she asks, already ringing up a grande iced caramel macchiato, soy, no whip.

            “Actually, I didn’t come for coffee.”

            At this, Emma can’t help herself from meeting chocolate eyes, surprised to find no trace of anger, awkwardness, or resentment over what had transpired.

            She coughs and finds her voice. “Then what did you come for?”

             “You.” Regina offers a shy smile.

            Her response throws Emma into even more confusion. She stutters, searching for something to say.

            At Emma’s lack of ability to continue the conversation, Regina comes to her aid.

            “Do you have a moment? I’d like to… I thought maybe we could talk.”

            At this point, Ruby’s already approached them, having heard most of the conversation and eager to get the two alone together.

            “I’ll cover for you. Go.”

            With that, Emma dumbly follows Regina to stand near the wall, away from the other guests.

            She crosses her arms and looks at the floor.

            Regina’s still got that stupid smile on her face. Did she just come to rub in the fact that she’d chosen Mal over Emma? Fuck this.

            “Hey,” Regina says.

            “Hey.” Emma replies.

            “How are you?”

            Emma bites back a sarcastic reply, suddenly needing to show Regina that she was just fine without her. “I’m just great. Really great. Fan-freaking-tastic.”

            Okay, so maybe Emma’s a bad liar when she’s bitter.

            Regina raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

            “Yep. Couldn’t be better.”

            For a moment, neither woman says anything, both awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

            “How’s Zelena?”

            “Good.” Regina fishes out her phone and scrolls through it. “It’s a girl. No complications.”

            She turns the screen toward Emma to display a small, red, squishy bundle of baby wrapped in a pink blanket and hat. Zelena, hair mussed and sweat coating her face, smiles proudly at the bundle in her arms.

            Emma can’t help but smile. “Aww!”

            “They named her Jade Olivia.”

            “That’s a nice name.”

            “It is.”

            “Better than Pistachio.”

            Emma chuckles at her own joke, and Regina does, too, though her cheeks redden at some unseen embarrassment.

            When their laughter dies down, Regina clears her throat.

            “Mal and I broke up.”

            Emma’s eyes widen, and she struggles to form a response. “You… you did?”

            “Yes. It turns out that we really _don’t_ have that much in common.”

            “Oh,” Emma responds. Awkwardly, she adds, “Not that I, uh, don’t like Mal, but I’m glad. Anybody who breaks up with you, especially the way she did, doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for them.”

            A soft smile crosses Regina’s cherry lips. “Thank you. Though fortunately this time things ended a bit more… amicably.”

            Emma nods, happy that Regina’s not going to stick with the woman any longer. She wrings her hands at her waist and glances around the coffee shop, trying to figure out why Regina had come here. If it’s not to rub Mal in her face, then… what? Emma tries to stifle the fluttering in her heart.

            “Um, not that I’m… uh… unhappy to see you, but… why are you here?”

            Again, Regina smiles shyly, and Emma feels a twinge of hope.

            “My friend Ursula is having a small party for New Year’s Eve. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

            Trying to ignore the pounding in her heart, Emma raises an eyebrow and smirks. “As your fake date?”

            Regina chuckles, then says, “As my real date,” so seriously that Emma can’t stop her jaw from dropping.

            She recovers quickly. “For real?”

            “For real.”

            Fighting the smile that’s working its way onto her face, Emma braves the question burning at the back of her mind.

            “But… I thought I meant nothing to you…”

            Regina’s eyebrows furrow in confusion until recognition suddenly floods her features and she bites her lip in guilt.

            “You heard that?”

            Nodding, Emma turns her attention to her feet.

            “Emma…” There’s a hand on her arm, soft and warm and _familiar_ , and Regina’s voice is filled with emotion. “I’m sorry. At that point, I thought I wanted Mal, and I was only saying what would stop her from being jealous.”

            Emma furrows her brows, still unwilling to look at Regina. “Jealous?”

            A finger slides under her chin and brings her head up, and then, Regina and Emma are eye to eye.

            “In the fifteen minutes she knew you, she saw what everyone else but me had also seen.”

            Regina takes a step closer and smiles. “I care for you, Emma. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but… you mean a lot to me. And I want to get to know you even more.”

            Emma blinks, unable to believe that Regina had come here for _her_ , to tell her that she _cares_ for her.

            “Really?”

            Nodding, Regina hesitantly tucks a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear.

            “Really.”

            After that, there’s no question in Emma’s mind.

            The kiss that follows isn’t grand or spectacular; there are no fireworks and it’s not beneath the mistletoe while everybody watches. They’re in the middle of an empty coffee shop, their only witnesses a beaming Ruby and two older ladies who are engrossed in their own conversation, oblivious to what’s happening on the other side of the room. Emma’s wearing her coffee-stained uniform, hair gathered in a messy ponytail and face free of makeup.

            But when she leans forward and presses her lips against Regina’s, it is everything.

 

Friday, December 25, 2020 – 6:15am

            “Can we go down now, Mommy?” Kelly begs, hopping up and down as she smiles at Zelena expectantly.

            Zelena verifies that everybody’s accounted for before chuckling and nodding. “Yes, you can go.”

            Immediately, the house fills with the thundering of the kids’ steps as they bound down the stairs, heading straight for the tree. The adults follow – Zelena, Walsh, Cora, Henry, Regina, and Emma – and watch as all four children beeline for the magnificent tree.

            Hunter and Kelly scramble for their presents, searching for the ones with their names on them and passing (almost)-four-year-old Jade hers, but little Henry stops short, several feet away from the festivities.

            Regina frowns slightly, noticing his hesitation, and glances to her wife for help.

            “Hey, kid, go check out your presents,” Emma encourages.

            Immediately, his face lights up, hope spreading to every crevice of his face. “There’s presents for _me_?” he squeals.

            Emma and Regina feel equal pangs in their hearts. They’d adopted six-year-old Henry earlier this year, and it’s their first Christmas together. Everything between the trio is still tentative and new. They’d hit it off right from the beginning – Regina soothing the boy every time he got a boo-boo or had a nightmare while he and Emma consistently acted like two children instead of one child and one adult – but they still come across difficulties that sometimes surprise them.

While in the system, Henry’s lived in at least two foster homes and two group homes, and he’s only six. As Emma watches him stare at the presents with uncertain hope, she realizes that he’s probably used to being at the bottom of the barrel, receiving only a few presents, the ones he does receive usually being donated, low in quality, and/or simple necessities like a new pair of shoes or a jacket. Not exactly exciting to a six-year-old. Though her own days in the system are behind her, Emma still remembers how that felt.

            But now, he’s theirs. Now, he has a family, one that’s put a billion presents under the tree for him (and donated several more to local charities).

            Both women nod, smiling.

            Having received his confirmation, Henry lets out an excited laugh and rushes over to the tree, ecstatic. He joins the other kids, and together, the four of them rip through present after present as the adults settle around the room to watch.

            Cora snaps what seems like a thousand pictures of the children, reveling in the joy of Christmas morning. Regina sits on the floor, her back against one of the couches, and Emma seats herself between Regina’s legs. As Emma leans back against her wife, Regina wraps her arms around Emma’s torso, sets her chin on Emma’s shoulder, and pulls the woman closer to her. Walsh takes a corner of the couch, and Zelena leans into him, watching their children gasp and laugh while rubbing her small baby bulge contentedly. She’s due in April. Henry’s next to her, smiling at his grandchildren as they discover what Santa left them.

            “Whoa, Legos!” Hunter exclaims, holding up his new set like a prize.

            Kelly squeals at opening her new Barbie set, one that comes with a veterinarian doll, a few plastic animals, and some props for the doll to tend to them with.

            As she unwraps a toy car set, Jade’s eyes go wide as she immediately pushes the box toward her parents and asks, “Mommy, I have the tow truck, please?”

            Chuckling, Zelena heaves the toy set into her lap and says, “Okay, I’ll get it out. Go ahead and open your other presents.”

            Henry’s jaw drops at every present he receives – even at the thick story book other kids his age might not be excited about. He flips through the pages, admiring the pictures and pointing excitedly at ones he liked.

            As Emma watches the scene unfold, she fiddles with the rings on her left hand, smiling as she twirls them around her finger.

            Afraid of jumping the gun like she had with Mal, Regina waited until they’d been together for two and a half years to propose. She took Emma out of Boston to a nearby park, where they went on a quiet walk through the woods and stopped near a waterfall for a picnic. Towards the end of the meal, Regina got on one knee and opened a small red box to reveal a familiar diamond ring.

            As part of her deal to not meddle as much in Regina’s life, Cora offered to return the ring and fully intended to let Regina choose one when she deemed appropriate. During Easter of 2019, while Emma and Regina were visiting, Cora revealed that she hadn’t gotten rid of the ring and offered it to Regina, stressing the fact that Regina could still choose not to accept it and buy her own engagement ring.

            Needless to say, Regina accepted. Figuring that the ring had been part of the event that brought them together, Regina thought it would be perfect for the two of them. Emma had told her once about how it had mysteriously fit just right, and seeing the proffered ring in Cora’s hands only reminded her of that fact. Truly, it was fate, and this time, Emma didn’t have to wonder what her answer should be.

            They held the wedding that fall, on a hilltop which overlooked the small town of Storybrooke. The woods around them came alive with a sea of colors which provided the perfect backdrop for their wedding photos. Ruby and Zelena had been Emma’s and Regina’s Matrons of Honor, respectively, with Neal, Ursula, Dorothy, and Walsh completing the wedding party. Kelly and Jade sported beautiful red dresses as they skipped down the aisle, spreading flower petals behind them. Carrying the white pillow with the wedding rings, Hunter looked sharp in his child-size tux.

            The ceremony had been beautiful, both brides as radiant as the sun. They’d both chosen long-sleeved dresses, Emma’s with an intricate lace pattern on the sleeves and Regina’s with lace in the back and on the skirt. It took every ounce of willpower Regina had to keep Emma from making their first married dance “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

            “But that’s our song!” Emma would cry.

            “Our wedding is in October. We’re not dancing to a Christmas song in October.”

            “So you agree that it’s our song.”

            Usually at this point, Regina rolled her eyes and replied, “It’s the first song we danced to together, but it’s not our song.”

            Eventually, they compromised, picking a beautiful love ballad sung by the woman who’d started it all (apparently), Mariah Carey.

            Not everything had been perfect; oh no, far from it, actually. They had their fair share of fights, usually revolving around Emma feeling insufficient for Regina or Regina bottling up her feelings and closing herself off. Usually when this happened, Emma would run for it – to Ruby’s, to a bar, and (once) to New York – but she always came back, or Regina went after her. They’d have an argument that would turn into a conversation that would turn into a riveting round of makeup sex. The thing about Emma and Regina was that neither wanted to give up on the other and – even if motivated by a fight – eventually communicated their feelings freely. They make a good team.

            It was no question that they would adopt, and in August, fate led them to a little boy with adorable dimples and the same name as Regina’s father. The rest, as they say, is history.

            Emma turns her head to kiss Regina’s cheek. “I love you.”

            Regina kisses Emma’s shoulder. “I love you, too, dear.”

            After presents are exchanged and opened, the family eats breakfast together in the kitchen and gathers back together in the living room.

            Regina’s father pulls out a familiar black case and extracts his saxophone. Emma follows suit, taking out her own tenor sax and readying it to play. Two Christmases ago, Emma told Henry Sr. about how she used to play the sax, and the following year, Cora and Henry gifted her with a brand new instrument. From then on, Emma took it upon herself to relearn the sax and often played with Henry. Just last night, they’d played together before the Christmas Eve party.

            Now, they start into, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” one of Emma’s new favorites.

            Regina watches her wife’s fingers fly across the keys, marveling at the woman’s talent. At first, Emma didn’t want to play it at all, afraid of messing up the beautiful, brand new instrument. It took some encouragement from Regina to convince her to at least try it out. During those last months of winter, their house (yes, their house – they’d moved in together during the summer of 2018) was filled with slow, choppy melodies and awkward wrong notes. Eventually, though, Emma grew comfortable with the instrument and her skill greatly improved. Regina couldn’t believe how experienced her wife had become in just one year of playing after several years of nothing. She leans her head back and listens to her wife’s music, perfectly content.

            That night, after the kids have been put to bed and everyone’s had enough wine, Regina and Emma retire to what’s been nicknamed as “their” bedroom, where they stay any time they come to visit Cora and Henry (which has happened more frequently over the years, as Cora and Regina have come to an understanding about their problems). They crawl under the covers and naturally find each other, cuddling in the dim moonlight filtering in through the window curtains.

            “Can you believe it’s been four years?” Emma whispers, tucking her head beneath Regina’s chin and tangling their legs together.

            Regina’s fingers find blonde hair and stroke it tenderly. “I know. I can hardly believe it.”

            Drawing circles over the silk top covering her wife’s stomach, Emma asks, “Be honest. When was the first time you realized you had feelings for me?” Regina doesn’t answer at first, so she suggests, “After Mal came back?”

            Regina shakes her head, chin gently tapping against Emma’s temple. “When Zelena made us kiss under the mistletoe.”

            Emma smiles, remembering the first moment their lips had touched.

            “What about you?” Regina questions. “When did you realize you liked me?”

            The blonde doesn’t even need to think. “When we were dancing to your dad playing the saxophone.”

            Regina scrunches her brow, remembering. “Why then?”

            Flattening her palm against Regina’s stomach, Emma says, “You were so happy. I liked seeing you like that and… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

            As Regina kisses the top of Emma’s head, she says, “No, it’s not stupid. I remember it.”

            They’re quiet for a moment until Emma says softly, “I’d do it again, you know. Pretend to date you.”

            Regina chuckles. “We’re married.”

            “Yeah,” Emma laughs. “But if I had to do it over again – fight with your mother, fight with _you_ , wonder if you liked me back, all of it – I would. It was worth it.”

            Hugging Emma closer, Regina says, “I would, too. I’m not even mad at Mal for breaking up with me the way she did because, if she hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now.”

            “But she hurt you.”

            “But I wouldn’t have you, now would I?”

            Emma smiles, wondering if it’s possible to love her wife any more than she already does.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            They settle into a comfortable silence, letting their breaths even out in the quiet night. They’re almost asleep when a small _creak_ signals the door being opened.

            Emma slides one eye open, spotting little Henry’s small frame in the doorway.

            “Henry,” Regina mumbles. She must have heard him come in, too. “What is it?”

            Tentatively, Henry enters the room and approaches Regina’s side of the bed.

            “Did you have a bad dream, kid?” Emma asks, propping herself up on one arm so she can see him better.

            The boy shakes his head no and eyes the space in the bed between them. He seems like he’s debating whether or not to ask something, but even though he’s come all this way, he doesn’t seem sure enough to ask it.

            “Do you want to sleep with us?” Emma prods instead, an inkling in her gut telling her that’s what he wants.

            The boy nods, otherwise not moving from his spot beside the bed. “Yes, please.”

            Immediately, both women break out into wide – yet tired – smiles. Henry had never asked to sleep in their bed before, even though they’d offered every time he had a nightmare. His seeking out comfort in this way is new, and neither woman was about to deny him.

            “Okay, sweetie, climb in,” Regina grants tiredly. With his mothers’ permission, Henry happily crawls over Regina’s side of the bed, over her legs, and inserts himself between them. As the mothers snuggle into his side and pull the covers up, they each plant a kiss on the top of his head.

            “Good night, Henry. Merry Christmas.”

            “Night,” Henry mumbles, already half asleep in his Mommy-And-Blanket Cocoon.

            “We love you.”

            “Love you, too.” He wipes at his eyes as he squirms into a comfortable spot.

            Regina and Emma share a knowing look, always filled to the brim with happiness when their son uttered the phrase.

            “Merry Christmas,” Regina whispers to Emma.

            Emma smiles, laying her head back on her pillow.

            “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
